i      >   .< 

f i  r  W 


Company's  2'ext-33ooks. 


N 


NEWGEOGKAPHIES. 

The  whole  subject  in  Two  Hooks. 

These  looks  are  the  most  simple,  the  most  practical,  anid  best 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  scJiool-room  of  any  yet  published. 

I.  Cotton's  New  Introductory  Geography. 

With  entirely  new  Maps  made  especially  for  this  book,  on 
the  most  improved  plan  ;  and  elegantly  Illustrated. 

II.  Cotton's  Common  School  Geography. 

With    Thirty  -six  new  Maps,  made  especially  for  this  book, 
and  drawn  on  a  uniform  system  of  scales. 

Elegantly  Illustrated. 

This  book  is  the  best  adapted  to  teaching  the  subject  of  Geog- 

raphy of  any  yet  published.    It  is  simple  and  comprehensive, 

uiid  embraces  just  what  the  child  should  be  taught,  and  nothing 

j  more.    It  also  embraces  the  general  principles  of  Physical  Geog- 

raphy so  far  as  they  can  be  taught  to  advantage  in  Common 

I  Schools. 

For  those  desiring  to  pursue  the  study  of  Physical  Geography, 
we  have  prepared 

Colton's  Physical  Geography. 

One  VoL    2to. 

A  very  valuable  book  and  fully  illustrated.  The  Maps  are 
compiled  with  the  greatest  care  by  GEO.  W.  COLTOX/  and  repre- 
sent the  most  remarkable  and  interesting  features  of  Physical 
Geography  clearly  to  the  eye. 

The  plan  of  Cotton"1  s  Geography  is  the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  It  meets  the 
exact  wants  of  our  Grammar  Schools.  The  Review  is  unsurpassed  in  its 
tendency  to  make  thorough  and  reliable  scholars.  I  have  learned  more  Geog- 
raphy that  Is  practical  and  available  during  the  short  time  we  have  used  this 
work,  than  in  all  my  life  before,  including  ten  years  teaching  by  Mitchell's 
plan.—  A.  B.  HETWOOD,  Prin.  Franklin  Gram.  School,  Lowell,  Mass. 

So  wefl  satisfied  have  I  been  with  these  Geographies  that  I  adopted  them, 
And  have  procured  their  introduction  into  most  of  the  schools  in  this  county. 
JAMBS  W.  THOMPSON,  A.M.,  Prin.  of  Oentrevilie  Academy,  Maryland. 

Any  of  the  above  sent  by  mail,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 


OLNEY'S  SERIES  OF  MATHEMATICS. 

Olney's  First  Lessons  in  Arithmetic  Illus- 
trated  

Olncy's  Practical  Arithmetic 

Olney's  Science  of  Arithmetic.  (For  High-Schools 
only.). 

Olncy's  First  Principles  of  Algebra 

Olney's   Complete  Algebra 

Olney's  Book  of  Test  Examples  in  Algebra... 

Olney's  University  Algebra 

Olney's  Elements  Geotn.  &  Trigonom.  (Sch.  Ed.) 

Olncy's  Elements  of  Geometry.    Separate 

Olncy's  Elements  of  Trigonometry.     Separate. . 

Olney's  Elements  of  Geometry  and  Trigonom- 
etry. (Univ.  Ed.,  with  Tables  of  Logarithms.) 

Olney's  Elements  of  Geometry  and  Trigonom- 
etry. (University  Edition,  without  Tables.) 

Olney's  General  Geometry  and  Calculus 

The  universal  favor  with  which  these  books  have  been  received 
by  educators  in  all  parts  of  the  country,  leads  the  publishers  to 
think  that  they  have  supplied  a  felt  want  in  our  educational  ap- 
pliances. 

There  is  one  feature  which  characterizes  this  series,  so  unique, 
and  yet  so  eminently  practical,  that  we  feel  desirous  of  calling 
special  attention  to  it.  It  is 

The  facility  with  which  the  books  can  be  used  for  classes  of 

all  grades,  and  in  schools  of  the  widest 

diversity  of  purpose. 

Each  volume  in  the  series  is  so  constructed  that  it  may  be  used 
with  equal  ease  by  the  youngest  and  least  disciplined  who  should 
be  pursuing  its  theme,  aud  by  those  who  in  more  mature  years 
and  with  more  ample  preparation  enter  upon  the  study. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

Gift  of 
THE  HONNOLD  LIBRARY 


map  of  Uriiain  eil  l/te  close  of  the  sixth  century,  shon-iny  the  distribution 
of  its  Celtic  and  Teutonic  population. 


SHAW'S  NEW  HISTORY 


OF 


5-5- 


ENGLISH  LITERATURE, 


PREP  ABED    ON    THE    BASIS    OF   "  SHAW'S    MANUAL" 
BY 

TKUMAN  J.   BACKUS,   A.M., 

PUOFES80R    OF     ENGLISH    LITERATURE    IN    VAB8AR    0  O  L  L  K  O  E. 


NEW   YORK: 

SHELDON    &    COMPANY, 

No.   8    MURRAV    STREET. 
T882. 


New  History  of  English  and  American  Literature. 

By  Prof.   TRUMAN  J.  BACKUS,  of  Vassar  College.      One   volume, 

12mo. 

This  book  has  been  prepared  with  the  greatest  care,  using  "  Shaw's 
Manual,"  edited  by  Dr.  Wm.  Smith,  as  a  basis. 

Specimens  of  American  Literature  and  Lit.  Reader. 

Greatly  Enlarged.  By  Prof.  BENJ.  N.  MARTIN,  D.D.,  L.H.D.,  Pro- 
fessor in  the  University  of  the  City  of  New  York.  One  volume, 
12mo. 

Choice  Specimens  of  English  Literature, 

A  Companion  Volume  to  the  New  History  of  Literature. 

Selected  from  the  chief  English  writers,  and  arranged  chronologi- 
cally by  THOS.  B.  SHAW  and  WM.  SMITH,  LL.D. 

Complete  Manual  of  English  and  American  Literature, 

By  THOS.  B.  SHAW,  M.A.,  WM.  SMITH,  LL.D.,  author  of  Smith'.! 
Bible  and  Classical  Dictionaries,  and  Prof.  HENRY  T.  TUCKER- 
MAN.  With  copious  notes  and  illustrations.  One  volume,  large 
J2mo,  540  pp. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

SHELDON    &    CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian,  of  Congress,  at  "Washington. 


Electrotype^  by  SMITH  &  McDouGAL,  82  Beekman  St.,  N.  Y. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 

PAOB 

--INTRODUCTORY 5 


CHAPTER     II. 
ENGLISH  LITERATURE  BEFORE  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST 13 

CHAPTER  -III. 
FROM  THE  CONQUEST  TO  GEOFFREY  CHAUCER 21 

CHAPTER     IV. 
GEOFFREY  CHAUCER.  // 26 

CHAPTER     V. 
THE  CONTEMPORARIES  OF  CHAUCER 43 

CHAPTER     VI. 
FROM  CHAUCER  TO  SPENSER 49 

CHAPTER     VII. 
THE  NON-DRAMATIC  ELIZABETHAN  POETS .    60 


Vi  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

PAGE 

THE  DAWN  or  THE  DRAMA ...    78 


CHAPTER    IX. 
WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 84 

CHAPTER     X. 
THE  SHAKSPEAREAN  DRAMATISTS 102 

CHAPTER    XI. 

THE  PROSE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD 114 

CHAPTER    XII. 
THE  SO-CALLED  METAPHYSICAL  POETS 130 

CHAPTER     XIII. 

RELIGIOUS  WRITERS  OF  THE  CIVIL  WAR  AND  THE  COMMON- 
WEALTH   137 

CHAPTER     XIV. 
JOHN  MILTON. 142 

CHAPTER     XV. 
THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  RESTORATION 159 

CHAPTER     XVI. 
TEE  CORRUPT  DRAMA 179 

CHAPTER     XVII. 
THE  PHILOSOPHERS  AND  THEOLOGIANS  OF  LOCKE'S  TIME 186 


CONTENTS.  Til 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

PAGE 

THE  ARTIFICIAL  POETS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY.  , 197 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

PROSE  WRITERS  OF  THE  FIRST  HALF  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH 

CENTURY.  . .          214 


CHAPTER     XX. 
THE  FIRST  GREAT  NOVELISTS 237 

CHAPTER    XXI. 
HISTORICAL  WRITERS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 248 

CHAPTER     XXII. 

ETHICAL,  POLITICAL,  AND   THEOLOGICAL   WRITERS   OF    THE 

LATTER  HALF  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY 254 

CHAPTER     XXIII. 
THE  DAWN  OF  ROMANTIC  POETRY 265 

CHAPTER    XXIV. 
WALTER  SCOTT 288 

•  CHAPTER    XXV. 

BTRON,  MOORE,  SHELLEY,  KEATS,  LEIGH  HUNT,  LANDOR,  HOOD, 

BEOWNING 299 

CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE  LAKE  SCHOOL— WORDSWORTH,  COLERIDGE  A.ND  SOUTHEY.  318 


v 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 
THE  MODERN  NOVELISTS 


PAGE 

328 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 
GENERAL   COMMENTS   ON   THE   LITERATURE   OP   THE   NINE- 


TEENTH CENTURY 


338 


PART     II. 

A  SKETCH  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


'^ 


PREFACE. 


rpHOMAS  B.  SHAW'S  Outlines  of  English  Literature, 
rewritten  by  "William  Smith,  LL.D.,  and  published  as 
A  Complete  Manual  of  English  Literature,  has  been  held  in 
high  esteem  by  American  teachers  during  the  last  ten  years. 
While  its  merits  have  been  recognized,  its  defects,  too,  have 
been  discovered.  The  work  was  intended  by  its  American 
publishers  to  be  used  in  colleges  only,  but,  owing  to  the  want 
of  a  more  suitable  text-book,  it  has  come  into  extensive  use 
in  high-schools  and  academies.  In  order  to  meet  the  criti- 
cisms of  teachers  who  have  introduced  it  into  these  schools, 
a  thorough  revision  of  the  Manual  has  been  made. 

In  the  revision  I  have  attempted, 

(1),  To  improve  the  logical  arrangement ; 

(2),  To  correct  the  lack  of  unity  in  several  chapters ; 

(3),  To  simplify  the  style. 

Mr.  Shaw  sought  "  to  render  the  work  as  little  dry — as 
readable,  in  short — as  is  consistent  with  accuracy  and  com- 
prehensiveness;"  but  his  abounding  use  of  relative  con- 
structions and  his  involved  sentences  defeated  his  purpose 


X  PREFACE. 

to  some  extent ;  for  they  defied  the  patience  of  many  stu- 
dents. In  endeavoring  to  present  the  topics  in  a  clearer 
style,  it  has  been  necessary  for  me  to  rewrite  many  of  the 
chapters. 

As  compared  with  the  Manual,  ths  peculiarities  of  this 
volume  are, 

(a),  A  fuller  discussion  of  the  "Old-English"  and  "Mid- 
dle-English "  literatures ; 

(#),  An  assignment  of  prominent  positions  to  the  most 
famous  writers; 

(c),  A  free  use  of  short  and  striking  quotations  from  the 
works  of  the  keenest  English  and  American  critics — in  some 
cases  inserted  in  the  text,  in  others  given  as  foot-notes,  and 
in  others  placed  at  the  head  of  a  chapter,  for  the  purpose  of 
inciting  the  student  to  a  more  curious  and  appreciative  read- 
ing of  an  author ; 

((?),  A  collection  of  references  to  the  hest  collateral  read- 
ings upon  the  topics  considered ; 

(e),  The  use  of  a  few  simple  diagrams,  intended  to  aid 
the  student  in  remernhering  important  classifications  of 
authors ; 

(/"),  The  omission  of  authors  who  have  not  contributed 
to  the  historical  development  of  our  literature. 

It  will  be  observed  that  several  essays  in  this  volume  are 
printed  in  a  conspicuous  manner.  A  reason  must  be  given 
for  this  innovation  upon  the  usual  typography  of  text-books. 
Among  teachers  of  English  literature,  there  is  a  growing 
conviction  that  much  time  is  wasted  in  the  class-room  by 


PREFACE.  Xl 

attempting  to  learn  about  too  many  authors.  Such  an 
attempt  is  dissipating  to  the  mind  of  the  student,  and  is 
most  unsatisfactory  to  the  teacher.  Wherever  the  students 
can  have  access  to  a  good  library,  it  will  be  found  to  be  the 
most  profitable  use  of  the  time  generally  allotted  to  this  sub- 
ject to  have  them  study  brief  biographies  of  the  few  authors 
who  have  wielded  potent  influence  over  our  thought  and  our 
language,  to  have  them  read  the  best  criticisms  upon  these 
authors,  and  the  best  passages  from  their  works.  With  this 
plan  in  view,  the  essays  on  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakespeare, 
Bacon,  Milton,  Dryden,  Pope,  Swift,  Addison,  Johnson, 
Goldsmith,  Burns,  Scott,  and  Byron,  have  been  printed  in 
the  most  attractive  manner;  references  have  been  furnished 
to  judicious  criticisms  of  their  works,  and  to  choice  speci- 
mens of  their  writings.  This  peculiarity  of  the  book  has  not 
been  allowed  to  disturb  the  orderly  presentation  of  a  general 
outline  of  the  history  of  our  literature. 

Following  Mr.  Shaw's  plan,  I  have  refrained  from  dis- 
cussing the  lives  and  works  of  English  authors  who  are 
now  living. 

The  Sketch  of  American  Literature  was  written  "by  the 
late  Henry  Theodore  Tuckerman  in  1852.  In  1870,  the 
year  before  his  death,  he  revised  it  for  publication  in  the  last 
edition  of  the  Manual.  It  has  received  plentiful  and  most 
appreciative  praise.  It  is  adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  class- 
room, supplying  to  the  teacher  just  the  outline  needed  in 
explaining  to  his  students  the  marvellous  growth  and  variety 
of  American  literature,  and  giving  to  the  students  a  model 
of  easy  and  genial  criticism.  In  making  this  revision  of 


Xll 


PREFACE. 


the  Manual,  I  have  been  unwilling  to  tamper  with  an 
essay,  so  elegant  in  its  style,  and  so  discriminating  in  its 
thought. 

Throughout  the  volume  references  are  made  to  Professor 
B.  N.  Martin's  Choice  Specimens  of  English  and  American 
Literature.  The  black-faced  figures  (1 )  refer  to  the  sections 
in  his  books. 

TRUMAN  J.  BACKUS. 
VASSAR  COLLEGE, 


August  29 


)LLEGE,  | 
.  1874.  \ 


A  BRIEF  MEMOIR  OF  THE  AUTHOR. 


rpHOMAS  BUDD  SHAW,  born  in  London,  on  the  12th  of 
October,  1813,  was  the  seventh  son  of  John  Shaw,  F.  R.  S.,  an 
eminent  architect.  From  a  very  early  period  of  his  life,  though  of 
delicate  constitution,  he  manifested  that  delight  in  the  acquisition 
of  knowledge  which  was  continued  throughout  his  subsequent 
career.  In  the  year  1822  he  accompanied  his  uncle,  the  Rev.  Francis 
Whitfield,  to  Berbice,  in  the  West  Indies.  That  gentleman  was 
eminently  qualified  to  advance  his  nephew  in  his  studies  and  in  the 
formation  of  his  character.  On  his  return  from  the  West  Indies,  in 
1827,  Shaw  entered  the  Free  School  at  Shrewsbury,  where  he  be- 
came a  favorite  pupil  of  Dr.  Butler,  afterwards  Bishop  of  Lichfield. 
There  it  was  remarked  of  him  that,  although  inferior  to  some  of  his 
contemporaries  in  the  critical  exactness  of  his  scholarship,  he  was 
surpassed  by  none  in  the  intuitive  power  with  which  he  compre- 
hended the  genius  and  spirit  of  the  great  writers  of  antiquity.  At 
this  early  period  he  rapidly  accumulated  that  general  and  varied 
knowledge  of  books,  which  when  acquired  seemed  never  to  be 
forgotten. 

From  Shrewsbury,  in  1833,  Mr.  Shaw  proceeded  to  St.  John's 
College,  Cambridge.  On  taking  his  degree,  in  1836,  he  became 
tutor  in  the  family  of  an  eminent  merchant ;  and  subsequently,  in 
1840,  he  was  induced  to  leave  England  for  Russia,  where  he  com- 
menced his  useful  and  honorable  career,  finally  settling  in  St.  Peters- 
burgh  in  the  year  1841.  Here  he  formed  an  intimacy  with  M.  War- 


XIV  A    BRIEF    MEMOIR     OF    THE     AUTHOR. 

rand.  Professor  at  the  University  of  St.  Petersburg]!,  through 
whose  influence,  in  1842,  he  obtained  the  appointment  of  Professor 
of  English  Literature  at  the  Imperial  Alexander  Lyceum.  His  lec- 
tures were  eagerly  attended  ;  no  professor  acquired  more  thoroughly 
the  love  and  respect  of  his  pupils,  many  of  whom  continued  his 
warmest  admirers  and  friends  in  after  life.  In  October  in  the  same 
year  he  married  Miss  Annette  Warrand,  daughter  of  the  Professor. 

In  1851  he  came  to  England  for  the  purpose  of  taking  his  degree 
of  Master  of  A  rts ;  and  on  his  return  to  Russia  he  was  elected  Lector 
of  English  Literature  at  the  University  of  St.  Petersburg!).  His  first 
pupils  were  the  Princes  of  Leuchtenburg ;  and,  his  reputation 
being  now  thoroughly  established,  he  was  in  1853  engaged  as  tutor 
and  Professor  of  English  to  the  Grand  Dukes,  an  appointment  which 
he  retained  till  his  death. 

For  nine  years  Mr.  Shaw's  position  was  in  every  respect  enviable; 
happy  in  his  married  life,  loved  by  his  pupils,  respected  and  hon- 
ored by  all  for  his  high  attainments  and  many  virtues,  his  life  passed 
in  peace  and  prosperity.  A  few  years  more,  and  his  means  would 
have  enabled  him  to  retire  and  pass  the  evening  of  his  life  in  liter- 
ary pursuits.  But  this  was  not  to  be.  In  October,  1862,  he  com- 
plained of  pain  in  the  region  of  the  heart ;  yet  he  struggled  hard 
against  his  malady,  until  nature  could  bear  no  more.  For  a  few 
days  before  his  death  he  suffered  acutely,  but  bore  his  sufferings 
with  manly  fortitude.  On  the  14th  of  November  he  was  relieved 
from  them,  dying  su.ldenly  of  aneurism.  His  death  was  regarded 
as  a  public  loss,  ana  his  funeral  was  attended  by  their  Imperial 
Highnesses,  and  a  lar^.e  concourse  of  present  and  former  students  of 
the  Lyceum.  A  subscription  was  raised,  and  a  monument  is  erected 
to  his  memory. 

The  following  is  a  list  of  such  of  Mr.  Shaw's  works  as  have  come 
to  our  notice : 

In  1836  he  wrote  several  pieces  for  The  Fellow  and  Prater's 
Magazine.  In  1837  he  translated  into  verse  numerous  German  and 
Latin  poems,  and  wrote  a  few  original  poems  of  merit,  some  of  which 


A    B  R  I  E  F     M  E  31 0  1 11     OF     THE     AUTHOR.-  XV 

appeared  in  The  Individual.  Two  well-written  pieces,  "  Tlie  Song 
of  Hrolfkraken.  the  Sea  King,"  and  "The  Surgeon's  Song,"  were 
contributions  to  Fraser's  Magazine.  In  1838  and  two  following 
years  he  contributed  several  translations  from  the  Italian  to  Fras&r. 
In  1842  he  started  The  St.  Petersburgh  Literary  Review;  he  also 
published  in  Blackwood  a  translation  of  "Anmalet  Bek,"  a  Russian 
novel,  by  Marliuski.  In  1844  he  published  his  first  work  of  con- 
siderable length,  a  translation  of  "  The  Heretic,"  a  novel  in  three 
volumes,  by  Lajetchnikoff.  The  work  was  well  received,  and  an 
edition  was  immediately  reprinted  in  New  York.  In  the  follow- 
ing year  appeared  in  Blackwood  his  "  Life  of  Poushkin,"  accom- 
panied by  exquisite  translations  of  several  of  the  finest  of  that 
poet's  productions.  In  1846  his  leisure  time  was  entirely  occupied 
in  writing  his  "  Outlines  of  English  Literature,1'  a  work  expressly 
undertaken  at  the  request  of  the  authorities  of  the  Lyceum,  and 
for  the  use  of  the  pupils  of  that  establishment.  The  edition 
was  speedily  sold,  and  immediately  reprinted  in  Philadelphia. 
In  1850  he  published  in  the  "  Quarterly"  an  exceedingly  original 
and  curious  article,  entitled  "  Forms  of  Salutation." 


ENGLISH    LITERATURE 


CHAPTER     I. 
INTRODUCTORY. 

IN  their  literary  inheritance,  the  readers  of  the  English 
language  are  the  richest  people  that  the  sun  shines 
on.  Their  novelists  paint  the  finest  portraits  of  human 
character,  their  historians  know  the  secrets  of  entrancing 
and  philosophical  narration,  their  critics  have  the  keenest 
acumen,  their  philosophers  probe  far  into  the  philosophy 
of  mind,  their  poets  sing  the  sweetest  songs.  But  before 
beginning  a  discussion  of  the  lives  and  the  works  of 
the  great  men  who  have  contributed  to  the  riches  of 
our  literature,  It  is  well  for  us  to  remind  ourselves  of  the 
long  centuries  of  ignorance  and  of  conflict  that  passed  over 
England  before  her  nationality  and  her  language  were  de- 
veloped. 

The  most  ancient  inhabitants  of  the  British-  Islands  were 
of  that  Celtic  race  which  once  occupied  a  large  portion  of 
Western  Europe.  They  had  not  a  respectable  degree  of 
civilization,  their  habits  were  nomadic  and  predatory  ;  they 
neglected  agriculture,  and  by  tattooing  and  staining  their 
bodies  they  gave  infallible  proof  of  their  untutored  state. 

The  first  important  intercourse  between  the  primitive 
Britons  and  any  foreign  nation  resulted  from  the  invasion  of 


6  THE     CELTS     IX     ENGLAXD. 

55  B.  C.J  the  country  by  the  Romans  under  Julius  Caesar. 
The  resistance  of  the  Britons,  though  obstinate 
and  ferocious,  was  overpowered  in  the  first  century  of  the 
Christian  era  by  the  superior  skill  and  organization  of  the 
Roman  armies.  The  central  and  southern  portion  of  the 
country  became  a  Roman  province  and  was  subject  to  foreign 
domination  for  about  four  hundred  years.  According  to 
their  custom,  the  invaders  strove  to  introduce  their  laws, 
their  habits  and  their  civilization  among  the  barbarous 
subjects.  The  Celts  who  yielded  acquired  a  considera- 
ble degree  of  civilization;  those  who  were  unsubdued  in- 
habited mountainous  regions  inaccessible  to  the  Roman 
arms,  and  frequently  descended  from  the  rugged  fastnesses  in 
Wales  and  Scotland,  to  carry  devastation  over  the  more  civil- 
ized province,  and  tax  the  skill  and  vigilance  of  the  foreign 
soldiery.  Upon  the  withdrawal  of  the  Roman  troops  at  the 
beginning  of  the  fifth  century,  the  Celts  who  had  submitted 
to  the  yoke  found  themselves  in  a  desperate  position. 
Swarms  of  Scots  and  Picts  came  upon  them,  to  reclaim  the 
territory,  and  swept  away  every  trace  of  civilization.  Ancient 
Celtic  legends  tell  of  the  vengeance  wreaked  upon  the  Britons 
who  had  bowed  to  the  Roman  invader. 

Traces  of  the  Celtic  element  in  the  English  language 
are  found  only  in  the  names  of  places,  and  in  the  titles  of  a 
few  familiar  objects.  In  the  vocabulary  of  one  hundred  and 
four  thousand  words  given  in  Webster's  Unabridged  Dic- 
tionary, it  would  be  difficult  to  find  one  hundred  derived 
directly  from  the  Celtic.  That  most  of  the  words  to  which 
the  lexicographer  assigns  a  Celtic  derivation  were  not  in- 
herited from  the  old  Britons  is  proved  by  the  fact  that  they 
are  not  to  be  found  in  the  Anglo-Saxon.  They  were  trans- 
planted from  the  Celtic  into  some  Romanes  tongue  and 
thence  were  grafted  into  moderr.  English.  The  aboriginal 
speech  of  Britain  has  bequeathed  to  us  less  than  any  other 
language  with  which  our  Anglo-Saxon  race  has  been  asso- 


THE     TEUTONIC     INVADEKS.  7 

elated.  Nor  did  the  Romans  who  held  dominion  over  Brit- 
ain leave  many  words  as  contributions  to  our  speech.  The 
multitude  of  our  Latin  derivatives,  as  we  shall  see,  were 
brought  to  our  language  in  a  later  century.  A  few  geograph- 
ical words  in  this  Brito-Eoman  period  were  ineffaceably 
stamped  upon  the  face  of  the  country.  They  have  survived 
invasions  and  revolutions,  and  stand  amid  the  modern  names 
as  venerable  monuments  of  a  mysterious  age.  Thus  the  ter- 
mination don  is,  in  some  instances,  as  in  " London"  the 
Celtic  word  " dun"  a  rock  or  natural  fortress ;  the  termina- 
tion caster  or  Chester  is  a  memorial  of  the  Roman  occupation, 
indicating  the  spot  of  a  castrum  or  fortified  camp ;  and  the 
last  syllable  of  I^ncoln  indicates  a  Roman  colonia. 

The  foundations  of  the  laws  and  language  of  the  peoples 
who  speak  the  Modern  English  were  laid  between  the  mid- 
dle of  the  fifth  and  the  middle  of  the  sixth  century.  Pirat- 
ical adventurers,  allured  across  the  North  Sea  from  the  bleak 
shores  of  their  native  Jutland,  Schleswig,  Holstein  and  the 
coasts  of  the  Baltic,  gradually  established  themselves  in 
those  parts  of  Britain  which  the  Romans  had  occupied. 
They  also  were  unable  to  penetrate  the  mountainous  districts 
of  Wales  and  Scotland.  The  level  and  more  easily  access- 
ible portion  of  Scotland  was  gradually  gained  by  them,  and 
their  language  was  established  there  as  well  as  in  South 
Britain.  Possessing  a  physical  organization  less  powerful  and 
enduring  than  that  of  the  Teutonic  invaders,  and,  perhaps, 
having  an  inferior  moral  constitution,  the  half-Romanized 
Britons  gradually  disappeared  from  the  presence  of  the  su- 
perior race.  The  absorption  or  destruction  of  this  nation 
was  in  accordance  with  what  seems  to  be  an  inevitable  law 
regulating  the  result  of  the  close  contact  of  two  unequal 
nationalities.  That  law  is  operating  in  our  own  land  to-day, 
as  it  guides  the  North  American  Indians  to  the  certain  fate 
that  must  come  from  their  contact  with  the  same  Anglo- 
Saxon  race. 


8  THE     DAXISH     I  XT  A  SIGN. 

The  English  nation,  then,  had  Teutonic  parentage.  The 
language  spoken  by  the  Saxon  invaders  was  akin  to  the 
modern  Dutjh  ;  and,  like  the  people  who  spoke  it,  was  vig- 
orous, practical  and  imaginative.  For  a  long  time  the  col- 
onization of  Britain  was  carried  on  by  detached  Teutonic 
tribes.  After  two  centuries  of  struggle  they  grouped  them- 
selves into  several  independent  governments,  collec- 
827,]  tively  known  as  the  Heptarchy  or  Seven  Kingdoms. 
In  827  these  were  all  made  subject  to  Wessex  (the 
country  of  the  West  Saxons)  and  there  was  at  last  the  pros- 
pect of  a  rapid  and  vigorous  national  development.  But  the 
union  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  tribes  was  hardly  effected  before 
the  Danes  invaded  the  country  in  large  numbers,  changed 
the  sovereignty  over  much  of  the  territory,  and  endeavored  to 
subjugate  the  Saxons  as  thoroughly  as  the  Saxons  had  subju- 
gated the  Celts.  By  the  heroism  and  wisdom  of  the  illustri- 
ous Alfred,  this  threatening  catastrophe  was  averted.  The 
two  fierce  races,  nearly  allied  in  origin,  consented  to  an 
amalgamation  which  did  not  materially  change  the  language 
or  institutions  of  the  country.  Still,  in  certain  localities,  as 
in  the  north  and  east  of  England,  and  along  the  coast  of 
Scotland  where  the  Danish  colonies  were  established,  evident 
marks  of  the  Scandinavian  occupation  are  found  in  the 
idioms  of  the  peasantry,  and  in  the  names  of  families  and 

places. 

1066.]  Towards  the  close  of  the  eleventh  century.  Wil- 

liam the  Conqueror,  by  his  victory  in  the  battle  of 
Hastings,  brought  Englishmen  under  the  Xorman  rule.  The 
most  important  changes  resulting  from  this  conquest  were 
the  establishment  in  England  of  the  feudal  principle  of  the 
military  tenure  of  land,  the  introduction  of  the  chivalric 
spirit  and  habits,  and  the  separation  of  society  into  two 
great  classes,  nobles  and  serfs.  English  homes  were  made 
the  property  of  unfriendly  foreigners;  the  generous  old 
Saxon  thane,  the  friend  and  companion  of  his  humbler  fel- 


THE     NORMAN     INVASION.  9 

lows,  was  superseded  by  the  arrogant  and  oppressing  Nor- 
man baron. 

The  Normans  who  settled  in  England  were  of  a  mixed 
race.  Early  in  the  tenth  century  piratical  Scandinavians 
made  conquests  of  territory  in  the  north  of  France,  ulti- 
mately wrested  from  the  degenerate  sons  of  Charlemagne  the 
whole  of  the  noble  province  which  has  since  borne  the  name 
of  Normandy,  developed  the  feudal  system  in  order  to  hold 
the  conquered  people  in  subjection,  and,  with  slight  modifi- 
cation, adopted  the  French  tongue.  The  gradual  blending 
of  these  two  races  produced  the  Norman  nationality.  Its 
language  was  written  in  iaws,  in  song,  in  story.  Its  culture 
was  expressed  in  literature,  in  the  delicacy  of  ornaments,  in 
architecture,  in  oratoiy,  and  was  far  superior  to  that  of  any 
other  European  nation  in  the  Middle  Ages.  Its  refinement 
was  equalled  by  its  valor.  When  this  cultivated  people  in- 
vaded and  conquered  England,  they  found  their  subjects 
illiterate,  without  social  culture,  given  to  coarse  dissipation, 
and  determined  to  treat  the  victors  with  unyielding 
hatred.  That  hatred  was  reciprocated.  For  two  centuries 
the  Norman  swayed  the  tyrant's  sceptre,  the  Saxon  yielded 
unwilling  homage.  Nor  was  there  any  disposition  to  blend 
interests  and  sympathies  until  the  Norman,  exiled  from 
Normandy,  came  to  consider  himself  an  Englishman,  not  a 
foreigner  in  possession  of  English  soil. 

But  it  is  in  the  effects  of  the  Norman  Conquest  upon 
the  English  language  that  we  are  interested.  The  speech 
which  the  Norman  invaders  brought  to  England  was  one 
of  two  closely  related  dialects  of  the  Eomauce  languages, 
and  was  known  as  the  Langue  d'Oil  in  distinction  from  the 
other  which  was  called  the  Langue  d'Oc.  These  names  were 
derived  from  their  differing  words  for  yes.  The  line  of  demar- 
cation between  them  nearly  coincided  with  the  Loire.  They 
were  both  results  of  the  decomposition  of  the  classical  Latin. 
That  ancient  language,  in  the  process  of  its  decay,  lost  nearly 


10  THE     NORMAN     INVASION. 

all  its  inflections.  Its  substantives  and  adjectives  surrendered 
the  terminations  of  their  cases  in  the  different  declensions, 
and  undertook  to  express  the  relations  of  words  by  the 
more  frequent  use  of  prepositions. 

The  poetry  of  each  of  the  French  dialects  had  been  read 
and  admired  by  the  few  educated  people  in  England  before 
the  Norman  Conquest.  After  the  Conquest,  the  Norman 
trouvtres,  poets  who  wrote  in  the  Langue  d'Oil,  and  the 
poets  of  the  sister  dialect,  the  troubadours,  were  held  in  high 
esteem  by  the  Court  in  England.  They  furnished  literature 
for  the  readers,  and  so  wielded  potent  influence  over  English 
thought  and  language.  They  displaced  the  English  Glee- 
man,  crowding  him  into  the  society  of  the  humblest  people. 

The  character  of  a  conquest  determines  its  effect  upon 
the  language  of  the  conquered.  The  Norman  Conquest 
was  not  such  as  a  civilised  nation  makes  of  a  nation  of  bar- 
barians. The  subjugated  people  were  not  exterminated,  nor 
were  they  diminished  by  considerable  numbers,  nor  were 
they  driven  from  their  country.  They  remained  upon  their 
native  soil.  The  change  which  the  Conquest  brought  to 
them  was  merely  a  change  in  the  administration  of  the 
government.  They  were  left  in  possession  of  traditional 
customs  and  speech.  With  few  exceptions  their  conversa- 
tion was  with  each  other,  almost  never  with  the  foreigner 
who  spoke  a  foreign  language.  Their  Anglo-Saxon  tongue 
remained,  modified  only  by  the  abandonment  of  a  few  indi- 
vidual words,  and  by  the  adoption  of  other  individual  words 
from  the  speech  of  the  conquerors. 

The  extent  and  rapidity  of  such  modifications  depended 
upon  the  numbers  and  social  condition  of  the  immigrants. 
These  immigrants  were  the  royal  family,  the  nobility,  the 
churchmen  and  the  army.  There  was  no  mass  of  common 
people  whose  station  would  compel  them  to  mingle  with 
the  despised  Saxons.  The  royal  family  used  the  Nor- 
man speech,  and  continued  to  exert  every  influence  in  its 


THE     FUSION"     OF     THE     LANGUAGES.  11 

favor  until  the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century.  There  was 
no  attempt  on  the  part  of  the  king  or  of  his  household  to 
understand  the  language  of  the  subjects;  the  nobles,  under 
the  system  of  feudalism,  needed  not  to  talk  with  those  whom 
they  oppressed;  the  churchmen  were  satisfied  with  their 
ecclesiastical  benefices  without  understanding  the  confes- 
sions of  humble  worshipers;  and  the  military  forces,  trained 
to  consider  themselves  as  men  placed  on  guard  against  the 
discontented  and  dangerous  Englishmen,  did  not  seek  com- 
panionship with  them.  These  circumstances  were  unfavor- 
able to  grand  changes  in  the  form  and  structure  of  the  Eng- 
lish language.  The  mutual  repulsion  of  the  two  races  con- 
tinued for  a  century;  then  followed  a  century  of  seeming  in- 
difference ;  but  in  the  third  century  after  the  Conquest  the 
people  were  united  by  their  common  interest  in  the  foreign 
wars  of  England. 

In  the  fourteenth  century  the  languages  began  to  coalesce 
rapidly,  and  the  English  language  and  the  English  nation- 
ality were  evolved  from  the  social  confusion  which  attended 
the  first  centuries  of  the  Norman  occupation.  The  lan- 
guage remained  Germanic  in  its  grammatical  character,  but 
it  received  such  large  accessions  of  French  words  as  to  change 
its  sound  when  spoken,  and  its  appearance  on  the  page. 
According  to  Hallam,  the  change  was  brought  about ;  1st, 
by  contracting  or  otherwise  modifying  the  pronunciation 
and  orthography  of  words ;  2d,  by  omitting  many  inflections, 
especially  of  the  noun,  and  consequently  making  more  use 
of  articles  and  auxiliaries;  and,  3d,  by  the  introduction  of 
French  derivatives. 

In  the  first  chapter  of  Ivanhoe,  Walter  Scott  has  given 
an  illustration  of  the  peculiar  significance  of  the  names  of 
animals  as  applied  by  Saxons  and  Normans,  and  has  shown 
that  our  language,  as  we  speak  it  to-day,  indicates  the  servi- 
tude of  the  Saxons.  He  introduces  Gurth,  a  Saxon  swine- 
herd, and  Wamba,  a  jester. 


12  THE     FUSION     OF     THE     LANGUAGES. 

"  '  Why,  how  call  you  those  grunting  brutes  running  about  on 
their  four  legs  ? '  demanded  Wamba. 

"  '  Swine,  fool,  swine,'  said  the  herd ;  '  every  fool  knows  that.' 

"'And  swine  is  good  Saxon,' said  the  jester;  'but  how  call 
you  the  sow  when  she  is  flayed  and  drawn  and  quartered,  and 
hung  up  by  the  heels  like  a  traitor  ? ' 

"  'Pork,'  answered  the  swine  herd. 

"  '  I  am  very  glad  every  fool  knows  that,  too,'  said  Wamba, 
'  and  pork,  I  think,  is  good  Norman-French  ;  and  so  when  the 
brute  lives,  and  is  in  charge  of  a  Saxon  slave,  she  goes  by  her 
Saxon  name ;  but  becomes  a  Norman,  and  is  called  pork,  when  she 
is  carried  to  the  castle-hall  to  feast  among  the  nobles  ;  what  dost 
thou  think  of  this,  friend  Gurth,  ha  ? ' 

" '  It  is  but  too  true  doctrine,  friend  Wamba.  however  it  got 
into  a  fool's  pate  ! ' 

"  '  Now  I  can  tell  you  more,'  said  Wamba,  in  the  same  tone  ; 
'there  is  old  Alderman  Ox  continues  to  hold  his  Saxon  epithet 
while  he  is  under  the  charge  of  serfs  and  bondsmen  such  as  thou, 
but  becomes  Beef,  a  fiery  French  gallant,  when  he  arrives  before 
the  worshipful  jaws  that  are  destined  to  consume  him.  Mynheer 
Calf,  too,  becomes  Monsieur  de  Veau  in  the  like  manner ;  he  is 
Saxon  when  he  requires  tendance,  and  takes  a  Norman  name  when 
he  becomes  matter  of  enjoyment.'  " 

The  fusion  of  the  Norman  and  Saxon  languages  was  not 
effected  until  the  fourteenth  century.  From  that  time 
until  the  present,  our  English  speech  has  been  extending 
its  vocabulary,  casting  off  local  and  dialectic  peculiarities, 
abandoning  old  inflections,  and  more  thoroughly  blending  its 
component  elements.  But,  despite  the  influence  of  language 
upon  national  character  and  the  destructive  processes  of 
time,  the  English  people  have  preserved  two  distinct  types 
of  character.  The  Norman's  adherence  to  the  laws  of 
caste  and  his  conservatism  are  still  displayed  by  the  aris- 
tocracy of  England ;  while  the  democratic  spirit  of  the  old 
Saxon  is  seen  in  the  open-hearted  hospitality  of  the  English 
commoner  and  in  his  resolute  ambition  to  obtain  the  fullest 
rights  of  citizenship  for  all. 


A    CHART    OF    THE    ENGLISH    LITERATURE 
DISCUSSED    IN   THIS   VOLUME. 


pnrTPV   J  Beowulf, 

••   (  Caedmon's  Paraphrase  of  the  Psalms. 


ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 


MIDDLE 
ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 


PROSE 
W1UTEIIS. 


ENGLISH  LITERATURE. 


f  KinS  Alfred, 

\  The  Venerable  Bede, 


f  Layamon, 
Orm,  wOrmin, 
Geoffrey  Chaucer. 
William  Langlande, 
POETS,    -i  John  Gower, 

Thomas  Occleve, 
John  Lydgate, 
James  I  of  Scotland, 
The  old  Ballad  Writers. 

Sir  John  Mandeville, 

Geoffrey  Chaucer, 

John  Wycliffe, 

William  Caxton, 

The  Writers  of  the  Paston  Letters. 

f  Of  the  first  half  (  John  Skelton, 

of    the    WlhJ.  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey. 
Century.          (  Sir  Thomas  Wyatt, 

The  non-dramatic  Elizabethan  Poets. 
The  Elizabethan  Dramatists, 
The  Metaphysical  Poets, 
John  Milton, 
POETS.    -|  Samuel  Butler, 
I  John  Dryden, 
The  Corrupt  Dramatists, 
The  Artificial  Poets  of  the  18th  Century, 
The  first  Romantic  Poets, 
Walter  Scott, 
Byron,  Moore,  Shelley,  Keats,  Campbell,  Hunt, 

and  Landor, 
The  Lake  School. 


PROSE 
WKITE11S. 


f  Sir  Thomas  More, 
"Of  the  first  half  of  j  Lord  Berners, 
the  16th  Century.  1  Roger  Ascham, 

[  William  Tyndale. 

Of  the  Elizabethan  Age, 

Theological  Writers  of  the  Civil  War  and  the 
Commonwealth, 

The  Literature  of  the  Restoration, 

The  Philosophers  and  Theologians  of  Locke's 
time, 

Prose  Writers  of  the  first  half  of  the  18th  Cen- 
tury, 

The  first  Great  Novelists, 

The  first  Great  Historians. 

Ethical,  Political,  and  Theological  Writers  of 
the  latter  half  of  the  18th  Century, 

The  Literary  Impostors  of  the  18th  Century. 

The  Modern  Novelists, 
.  The  Modern  Historians  and  Essayists. 


CHAPTER    II. 

ENGLISH  LITERATURE  BEFORE  THE  NORMAN  CONQUEST. 

FOR  more  than  fourteen  centuries  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
the  English  people  have  found  expression  in  the  same  lan- 
guage which  we  now  speak.  The  rude  dialects  that  were  brought 
to  Britain  by  our  forefathers,  though  differing  in  many  particulars, 
•were  like  the'modern  English  in  all  essential  respects.  This  ven- 
erable language  has  undergone  many  changes  and  modifications, 
has  been  affected  by  strong  foreign  influences,  has  stripped  itself  of 
many  of  its  inflections,  has  acquired  a  vast  vocabulary,  has  passed 
from  youth  to  maturity.  Between  its.  youth  and  its  maturity  there 
has  been  wonderful  growth,  but  the  identity  remains.  The  modern 
English  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  developed. 

It  is  customary  to  use  the  terms  "  Anglo-Saxon,"  "  Semi-Saxon," 
and  "  English,"  to  designate  three  periods  in  the  history  of  our 
language ;  but  as  the  use  of  the  first  two  of  these  terms  might 
tempt  us  to  think  that  we  are  considering  a  foreign  language  and 
literature,  when  we  are  considering  merely  the  old  fashions  of  our 
own  speech,  we  shall  do  well  to  avoid  the  temptation  by  adopting 
the  following  form  of  division : 

1.  The  Old  English,  from  the  dawn  of  the  language  until  1154. 

2.  The  Middle  English,  from  1154  until  about  1500. 

3.  The  Modern  English;  from  about  1500  to  the  present  time. 
It  cannot  be  incorrect  to  apply  the  term  "English"  to  even  the 

first  of  these  periods,  for  the  renowned  King  Alfred,  writing  in  the 
ninth  century,  uses  that  very  term  in  describing  his  language.* 
The  old  English  was  highly  inflected  in  its  grammar,  and  had  few 
words  adopted  from  foreign  languages.  The  middle  English  is  the 
name  we  give  to  that  period  of  transition  in  which  the  speech  of 

*  ^Elfred  Kyning  waes  wealhstod  thisse  bee,  and  hie  of  boclaedene  on  Engltse 
\vende.  "  Alfred  King  was  commentator  of  this  book,  and  it  from  book-languago 
Into  English  turned." 


14  BEOWULF. 

the  Normans  was  exerting  its  influence  upon  our  language.  Dur- 
ing this  period  a  few  complicated  forms  of  grammatical  structure 
were  abandoned,  and  the  vocabulary  was  largely  increased. 

In  the  modern  English  the  changes  have  been  slight.  The 
printing-press  has  stereotyped  the  language. 

OLD   ENGLISH  POETRY. 

No  other  spoken  language  of  modern  Europe  has  a  literature 
as  ancient  as  the  English.  Its  earliest  extant  writing  is  an  epic 
poem  of  more  than  six  thousand  lines,  entitled  Beowult  The 
scene  of  its  action  indicates  that  it  was  composed  by  Saxons  who 
had  not  yet  invaded  England,  though  a  few  scholane  attempt  to 
give  the  poem  an  English  birth-place  in  the  county  of  Durham. 

In  their  primitive  home,  when  the  banqueting-hall  (the  "  mead- 
bench  ")  was  filled,  the  yleeman  stirred  the  courage  of  his  listeners 
by  the  recital  of  the  superhuman  deeds  of  the  mighty  Beowulf. 
As  the  story  runs,  King  Hrothgar  and  his  chosen  subjects  were 
wont  to  sit  in  his  great  hall  listening  to  music,  and  drinking  for 
their  pleasure ;  but  their  pleasure  was  disturbed  by  their  fear  of 
Grendel,  a  grim  and  terrible  giant,  who  dwelt  in  the  neighboring 
marshes  of  Jutland.  This  monster  would  come  into  the  palace  at 
times  to  see  "  how  the  doughty  Danes  found  themselves  after  their 
beer-carouse."  On  the  occasion  of  his  first  visit  he  slew  thirty 
sleeping  men.  For  twelve  years  he  was  the  terror  of  the  land.  At 
last  the  pitiful  story  came  to  the  ears  of  Beowulf,  a  viking  who  was 
noted  for  his  victories  over  the  giants  of  the  deep.  He  resolved  to 
go  to  the  relief  of  Hrothgar.  Entering  the  haunted  hall,  he  prom- 
ised to  fight  the  monster.  When  the  mists  of  the  night  arose, 
Grendel  came,  and  commenced  a  ferocious  assault  upon  a  sleeping 
man.  Beowulf  faced  him,  fought  him  valiantly,  and  wounded  him. 
so  that  he  died.  Then  there  was  great  rejoicing.  But  the  joy  was 
soon  dispelled,  for  the  mother  of  the  monster  came  to  seek  revenge. 
Beowulf  pursued  her  into  deep,  dark  waters,  where  he  was  seized 
and  dragged  to  the  bottom  of  her  cave ;  but  he  was  able  to  let  her 
soul  out  of  its  bone-house  ("ban-hus"). 

A  description  of  this  poem  is  comparatively  uninstructive  and 
valueless  without  an  illustration  of  its  quaint  thought  and  its 


BEOWULF.  15 

terse  expression.     We  will  look  at  a  short  extract  from  the  con- 
densed and  modernized  version  found  in  Morley's  English  Writers.* 

"  Then  came  from  the  moor  under  the  misty  hills,  Grendel 
stalking :  the  wicked  spoiler  meant  in  the  lofty  hall  to  snare  one 
of  mankind.  He  strode  under  the  clouds  until*  he  saw  the  wine- 
house,  golden  hall  of  men.  Came  then  faring  to  the  house  the  joy- 
less man,  he  rushed  straight  on  the  door,  fast  with  fire-hardened 
bands,  struck  witli  his  hands,  dragged  open  the  hall's  mouth  : 
quickly  then  trod  the  fiend  on  the  stained  floor,  went  wroth  of 
mood,  and  from  his  eyes  stood  forth  a  loathsome  light,  likest  to 
flame.  He  saw  in  the  house  many  war-men  sleeping  all  together, 
then  was  his  mood  laughter.  Hope  of  a  sweet  glut  had  arisen  in 
him.  But  it  was  not  for  him  after  that  night  to  eat  more  of  man- 
kind. The  wretched  wight  seized  quickly  a  sleeping  warrior,  slit 
him  unawares,  bit  his  bone-locker,  drank  his  blood,  in  morsels 
swallowed  him :  soon  had  he  all  eaten,  feet  and  fingers.  Nearer 
forth  he  stept,  laid  hands  upon  the  doughty-minded  warrior  at  his 
rest,  but  Beowulf  reached  forth  a  hand  and  hung  upon  his  arm. 
Soon  as  the  evil-doer  felt  that  there  was  not  in  mid-earth  a  stronger 
hand-grip,  he  became  fearful  in  heart.  Not  for  that  could  he 
escape  the  sooner,  though  his  mind  was  bent  on  flight.  He  would 
flee  into  his  den,  seek  the  pack  of  devils ;  his  trial  there  was  such 
as  in  his  life-days  he  had  never  before  found.  The  hall  thundered, 
the  ale  of  all  the  Danes  and  earls  was  spilt.  Angry,  fierce  were  the 
strong  fighters,  the  hall  was  full  of  the  din.  It  was  great  wonder 
that  the  wine-hall  stood  above  the  warlike  beasts,  that  the  fair 
earth-home  fell  not  to  the  ground.  But  Avithin  and  without  it  was 
fast  with  iron  bands  cunningly  forged.  Over  the  North  Danes 
stood  dire  fear,  on  every  one  of  those  who  heard  the  gruesome 
whoop.  The  friend  of  earls  held  fast  the  deadly  guest,  would  not 
leave  him  while  living.  Then  drew  a  warrior  of  Beowulf  an  old 
sword  of  his  father's  for  help  of  his  lord.  The  sons  of  strife  sought 
then  to  hew  on  every  side,  they  knew  not  that  no  war-blade  would 
cut  into  the  wicked  scather;  but  Beowulf  had  foresworn  every 
edge.  Hygelac's  proud  kinsman  had  the  foe  of  God  in  hand.  The 
fell  wretch  bore  pain,  a  deadly  wound  gaped  on  his  shoulder,  the 
sinews  sprang  asunder,  the  bone-locker  burst,  to  Beowulf  was  war- 
strength  given.  Grendel  fled  away  death-sick,  to  seek  a  sad  dwell- 
ing under  the  fen  shelters  ;  his  life's  end  was  come." 

When  Hrothgar  died,  the  hero  of  the  poem  ascended  thu 
throne ;  and  after  an  adventurous  reign  of  fifty  years,  he  died  from 
wounds  received  in  slaying  a  terrible  fire-fiend. 

This,  the  most  ancient  and  the  most  interesting  of  the  old 
English  poems,  is  full  of  the  superstitions  of  heathen  times,  and  yet 

*  Vol.  I.,  p.  258. 


16  CAEDMON. 

it  presents  a  character  instinct  with  chivalry  and  generosity.  It 
is  the  picture  of  "an  age  brave,  generous,  right-principled." 
Many  strange  but  forcible  compound  words,  many  highly  imagina- 
tive metaphors,  and  five  similes  are  found  in  this  venerable  poem. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  allegorical,  the  monster  representing  a  poison- 
ous exhalation  from  the  marshes.  If  the  supposition  be  a  cor- 
rect one.  this  literary  relic  displays  the  predilection  of  our  ances- 
tors for  allegorical  expression. 

Although  the  action  of  this  heroic  story  was  not  later  than  the 
beginning  of  the  sixth  century,  the  only  MS.  which  has  preserved 
the  narrative  for  us  was  written  not  earlier  than  the  close  of  the 
tenth  century.  This  most  valuable  of  English  records,  now 
kept  in  the  British  Museum,  was  the  work  of  a  monk  who 
wrote  it  from  dictation.  The  writing  is  continuous,  resembling 
our  manuscript  of  prose.  There  is  no  mechanical  separation  of 
verses;  nor  is  there  any  rhyming,  for  rhyme  was  an  adornment 
unknown  in  English  poetry,  until  after  the  Norman  Conquest. 
But  in  this,  and  in  all  other  Old  English  (Anglo-Saxon)  poems, 
a  rude  alliteration  is  found,  which  is  explained  in  the  discussion  of 
"  The  Vision  of  Piers  Plowman." 

The  next  important  poem  demanding  attention  in  this  period 
of  our  literature  is  free  from  the  pagan  sentiments  of  Beowulf. 
It  was  written  about  two  centuries  after  the  Angles  and  Saxons 
began  their  invasion  of  England.  By  that  time  they  had  been 
won  to  the  Christian  faith,  and  were  ready  to  receive  with  glad- 
ness a  poetical  versification  of  passages  from  the  Bible,  by  which 
the  sacred  teachings  could  be  more  easily  remembered, 
Died  680.]  and  more  entertainingly  diffused.  A  monk  named 
Caedmon  (Kad'mon),  was  the  first  Englishman  who 
has  left  us  poetry  inspired  by  the  chaste  beauties  of  Christian  sen- 
timent, and  he  was  the  author  of  such  a  Metrical  Paraphrase  of  the 
Scriptures,  Connected  with  his  work,  we  have  one  of  the  most 
interesting  traditions  found  in  English  literature.  He  was  an 
ignorant,  and  a  very  devout  man.  Sitting,  one  evening,  Avith  a  com- 
pany of  rustics,  who  were  whiling  away  the  time  by  singing  and 
by  recitation,  his  ignorance  compelled  him  to  be  silent  when  it 
was  his  turn  to  help  on  the  entertainment.  Bemoaning  his  stupid- 
ity, "  he  left  the  house  of  festivity,  went  out  to  the  stables  of  the 


CAEDMOtf.  1? 

beasts,  whose  custody  on  that  night  was  intrusted  to  him  ;  "  and 
there  in  his  restless  sleep  a  strange  figure  appeared  to  him  and 
bade  him  sing.  u  I  cannot  sing,"  said  Caedmon ;  "  I  have  come  out 
hither  from  the  feast  because  I  could  not  sing."  Then  he  who 
spoke  to  him  said,  "  But  you  hare  to  sing  to  me."  "  "What  must  I 
sing  ?  "  asked  Caedmon  ;  and  the  voice  replied,  "  Sing  the  origin 
of  creatures."  At  once  an  inspiration  came  to  the  ignorant  peas- 
ant, and  the  words  of  his  song  lingered  in  his  memory  when  he 
awoke.  Gifts  of  poesy  were  continued  to  him.  The  people  of 
the  neighboring  monastery  pronounced  his  new  endowment  a  mir- 
acle, called  him  a  favored  child  of  heaven,  received  him  into 
their  order,  and  ever  treated  him  with  deference. 

Such  is  the  tradition.  The  marvelous  story  may  have  been  told 
for  the  purpose  of  winning  the  reverent  esteem  of  the  people  for 
Caedmon's  teachings.  But  without  the  story  he  would  have  been 
eminent  among  men.  His  work  exerted  an  extraordinary  influence 
upon  the  national  modes  of  thought,  and  won  for  him  the  deep 
reverence  of  five  centuries  of  Englishmen. 

It  has  been  maintained  that  this  great  religious  poet  of  the 
Anglo-Saxons  suggested  to  Milton  the  subject  of  his  renowned 
epic.  That  Milton  must  have  read  Caedmon  with  great  interest 
seems  probable,  in  view  of  the  fuct  that  the  MS.  of  Caedmon,  dis- 
covered in  1654,  was  first  published  in  1655,  and  that  it  discussed 
the  Fall  of  Man,  the  very  subject  upon  which  Milton's  imagination 
was  at  work.  Both  describe  wicked  angels,  their  expulsion  from 
heaven,  their  descent  into  hell,  and  the  creation  of  the  world. 
In  Satan's  soliloquy  in  Hell  we  find  a  passage  (others  might  be 
cited),  in  which  the  great  English  epic  poet  of  the  seventeenth 
century  uses  thoughts  closely  resembling  those  that  were  written  by 
the  monk  of  the  seventh  century. 

These  poems  of  the  Old  English  period,  one  produced  while 
our  ancestors  were  yet  in  paganism,  the  other  after  they  had 
accepted  Christianity,  are  the  only  extended  works  in  verse  which 
have  been  preserved.  The  shorter  poems  are  not  numerous. 
Fragments  of  verse  and  two  or  three  unbroken  passages  are  found 
amid  the  prose  of  the  Saxon  Ch-onicle.  They  are  always  spirited, 
but  serious.  They  are  the  utterances  of  a  people  who,  though 
unaccustomed  to  give  vent  to  their  feelings,  yet,  when  excited  by 
some  great  occasion,  expressed  themselves  with  earnest  solemnity. 


18  KIXG     ALFRED. 

They  never  show  us  the  sparkle  of  lyric  verse,— the  national  char- 
acter was  not  adapted  to  its  production. 

OLD   ENGLISH   PROSE. 

B.  849.]  The  honored  name  of  King  Alfred  stands  pre-eminent 
among  the  writers  of  prose  in  Old  English.  No  sooner 
had  he  effected  the  deliverance  of  his  people  from  their  Danish 
enemies,  than  he  eagerly  set  to  work  to  lift  them  out  of  their  bond- 
age to  ignorance.  From  various  quarters,  he  invited  men  of  learn- 
ing to  his  court.  He  strove  to  secure  the  higher  education  of  -the 
clergy.  What  lie  could  do,  he  did,  to  restore  the  literary  work 
that  had  been  destroyed  when  the  Danes  burned  English  monas- 
teries. In  order  to  diffuse  knowledge,  he  had  the  standard  writ- 
ings on  religion,  morals,  geography,  and  history,  translated  into 
the  language  of  the  people.  But  he  not  only  gave  patronage  to 
learning,  he  also  gave  his  most  earnest  personal  efforts  in  contrib- 
uting to  the  national  literature.  At  a  time  of  life  when  the  task 
must  have  been  irksome  enough,  he  applied  himself  to  a  careful 
course  of  training  in  order  to  prepare  himself  for  the  work  of  a 
writer.  By  these  means  his  patriotic  desires,  to  a  great  extent, 
were  realized ;  and,  while  he  succeeded  in  elevating  his  country, 
he  won  for  himself  a  lofty  place  among  royal  authors. 

King  Alfred's  chief  works  were  translations  of  Bede's 
Ecclesiastical  History,  the  Ancient  History  of  Orosius,  and  Boethius 
On  the  Consolations  Afforded  by  Philosophy.  But  he  was  something 
more  than  a  mere  translator.  He  dealt  fairly  with  the  text  of  an 
author,  cutting  away  redundancies,  or  making  additions,  as  he  saw 
fit,  and  writing  such  elaborate  prefaces,  that  the  new  matter 
introduced  by  way  of  comment  or  illustration,  entitles  him  to  be 
called  an  original  author.  His  writings  are  pronounced  "  the 
purest  specimens  of  Anglo-Saxon  prose." 

It  is  reasonable  to  suppose,  that  the  patronage  and  the  example 
of  the  great  king  must  have  induced  the  writing  of  many  works 
in  the  native  language ;  but  time  has  spared  us  very  few  of  them. 
One  grand  monument  of  prose  literature,  the  Saxon  Chronicle 
still  remains.  It  exists  in  seven  separate  forms,  each  named  from 
the  monastery  in  which  it  was  completed.  The  usual  unauthentic 
account  of  this  work  is  that  it  was  originally  composed  at  the  sug- 


THE     SAXOX     CHRONICIES.  19 

gestion  of  King  Alfred,  and,  beginning  with  tho  arrival  of  Julius 
Caesar  in  Britain,  was  brought  down  to  the  year  891,  and  that  from 
that  time  it  was  continued  as  a  contemporary  record  until  the 
accession  of  Henry  II,  in  1154.  This  chronicle  is  exceedingly 
interesting,  as  it  is  the  first  ever  written  in  Teutonic  prose,  and  is 
also  most  valuable,  since  it  furnishes  trustworthy  statements  con- 
cerning the  early  history  of  the  English  people. 

At  the  beginning,  the  work  is  crude,  meagre  in  its  details,  and 
altogether  devoid  of  the  qualities  we  expect  to  find  in  an  elaborate 
historical  narration ;  but  as  the  record  draws  towards  its  close,  the 
chroniclers  occasionally  rise  into  sustained  descriptions,  display 
vigor  of  style  and  a  sober  eloquence.  "  Putting  aside  the  Hebrew 
annals,  there  is  not  anywhere  known  a  series  of  early  vernacular 
histories  comparable  to  the  Saxon  Chronicles."  Their  close  marks 
the  close  of  the  old  language  as  well  as  of  the  old  literature; 
for  before  the  chronicler  had  thrown  down  his  pen,  he  had  begun  to 
confuse  his  grammar  and  to  corrupt  his  vocabulary. 

The  literature  thus  far  referred  to  was  written  for  the  amuse- 
ment or  instruction  of  comparatively  ignorant  people ;  much  of  it 
was  intended  for  recital  to  those  who  could  not  read.  But  there 
were  monks  in  England  who  were  studying  and  writing  in  Latin, 
then  the  only  language  of  the  republic  of  learning.  During  the 
first  five  or  six  centuries  of  England's  history,  her  most  highly  cul- 
tivated men  were  contributing  to  the  well-stocked  literature  of 
Rome,  and  were  withholding  the  fruits  of  their  mental  toil  from 
the  literature  of  their  own  nation.  Two  of  these  writers  of  Latin, 
Bede  and  Asser,  by  discussing  subjects  connected  with  the  history 
of  England,  have  bequeathed  to  us  most  valuable  infor- 
B.  673.]  mation. 

D.  735.]         Bede,  surnamed   the   Venerable,  was   placed  in  his 
monastery  when  seven  years  of  age.     The   rest  of  his 
biography  is  contained  in  the  foll«wing  brief  passage,  translated 
from  one  of  his  works  : 

"  Spending  all  the  remaining  time  of  my  life  in  that  monastery, 
I  wholly  applied  myself  to  the  study  of  Scripture,  and  amidst  the 
observance  of  regular  discipline,  and  the  daily  care  of  singing  in  the 
church,  I  always  took  delight  in  learning,  teaching  and  writing. 
In  the  nineteenth  year  of  my  age  I  received  deacon's  orders ;  in  the 
thirtieth,  those  of  the  priesthood,  *  *  .  *  from  which  time  till 


20  THE     VENEKABLE     BEDE. 

s 

the  fifty-ninth  year  of  my  age  I  have  made  it  my  business,  for  tha 
use  of  me  and  mine,  to  compile  out  of  the  works  of  the  venerable 
fathers,  and  to  interpret  and  explain,  according  to  their  meaning, 
these  following  pieces." 

The  enumeration  itself  is  startlingly  voluminous.  "  His  writings 
form  almost  an  encyclopaedia  of  the  knowledge  of  his  day."  But  it 
is  by  one  work  that  he  has  made  the  English  nation  a  lasting  debtor 
to  his  fame  ;  for  his  Ecclesiastical  History  of  the  English  was  a  his- 
tory of  England,  and  was  for  centuries  the  only  source  of  knowl- 
edge in  matters  relating  to  the  nation's  early  career.  Written  for 
the  purpose  of  preserving  among  the  Angles  and  Saxons  the  mem- 
ory of  their  conversion  to  the  Christian  faith,  it  told  them,  also,  the 
story  of  their  political  life.  In  careful  and  successful  research,  in 
arrangement  of  materials,  and  in  felicity  of  style,  he  rises  far  above 
all  Gothic  historians  of  that  age. 

Asser,  a  devout  bishop,  was  the  friend  and  counsellor 
D.  910,]  of  Alfred.  He  is  supposed  to  have  been  the  author  of 
an  extant  biography  of  the  king.  This  work  is  of  great 
interest,  but  its  authenticity  has  been  fiercely  disputed.  Although 
strong  arguments  are  brought  forward  against  its  reliableness,  still 
the  probability  is  that  the  book  contains  substantial  truth,  and  that 
it  was  written  in  893.  It  tells  the  simple  and  romantic  story  of  the 
king's  life  ;  pictures  his  youth,  his  manhood,  his  character ;  narrates 
the  incidents  which  show  his  love  and  care  for  his  subjects  ;  shows 
us  the  organization  of  the  government,  and  incidentally  displays 
the  state  of  civilization  in  that  day.  The  present  popular  opinions 
of  the  reign  of  Alfred,  and  all  the  deeds  ascribed  to  him — save  a 
few  distortions  of  tradition — are  derived  from  the  records  of  Asser. 

NOTE.— For  extended  reading  upon  the  topics  discussed  in  this  chapter,  the  stu- 
dent is  referred  to  Wright's  Blographia  Britannica  Liferaria,  Morley^  English 
Writers,  Quest's  History  of  English  Bhythms,  Conybeare's  IUv#lrations  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  Poetry,  Thorpe's  edition  of  Caedmon,  Craik's  English  Literature  and  Lan 
e^  and  Taine'e  English  Literature. 


CHAPTER     III. 

FROM  THE  CONQUEST  TO  GEOFFREY  CHAUCER. 

TT^OR  more  than  a  century  after  the  Norman  Conquest,  English 
Literature  was  utterly  inert.  That  event,  so  fatal  to  the  native 
aristocracy,  seemed  at  first  to  have  swept  away  in  common  ruin  the 
laws,  language,  and  arts  of  the  English  people,  and  to  have  blot- 
ted out  England  from  the  muster-roll  of  the  nations.  A  foreign 
king  and  aristocracy,  an  alien  language  and  literature,  ruled  in  thf 
land ;  the  old  speech  was  no  longer  heard  in  the  halls  of  the  great  s 
native  genius  no  longer  strove  to  utter  itself  in  the  native  tongue  ; 
and  the  voice  of  the  English  nation  seemed  stilled  forever.  But  it 
was  not  the  stillness  of  death ;  in  a  few  generations  signs  of  re- 
turring  life  began  to  show  themselves ;  and  the  English  nation 
emerged  from  the  fiery  trial,  with  its  equipment  of  language,  laws 
and  literature,  materially  altered  indeed,  and  perhaps  improved, 
but  still  bearing  the  ineffaceable  Teutonic  stamp.  The  national 
life  was  not  annihilated  at  Senlac ;  it  was  but  suspended  for  a 
time. 

In  the  old  English,  as  in  other  Teutonic  languages,  there  was  a 
tendency  to  shake  oflf  the  complicated  inflections  that  fettered  free 
utterance.  This  tendency  existed  before  the  Norman  Conquest. 
That  great  political  revolution  but  gave  it  an  additional  impulse. 
The  vernacular  speech  was  driven  from  literature  for  a  time,  and 
found  its  refuge  in  the  cottages  of  ignorant  people.  No  longer 
fixed  by  use  in  literature,  and  exposed  to  many  disturbing  influ- 
ences, it  fell  into  disorder.  The  processes  of  change  wrere  thereby 
accelerated,  and  when,  at  the  middle  of  the  twelfth  century,  this 
speech  rose  to  the  surface  once  more,  it  had  traveled  much  farther 
on  its  prescribed  course,  than  it  would  have  done  had  it  been  left 


22  THE      BRUT     OF     LATAMOX. 

to  itself.  Still  it  was  the  old  tongue.  In  the  words  of  Max  Mtiller, 
"  not  a  single  drop  of  foreign  blood  has  entered  into  the  organic 
system  of  the  English  language.  The  Grammar,  the  blood  and  the 
soul  of  the  language,  is  as  pure  and  unmixed  in  English  as  spoken 
in  the  British  Isles,  as  it  was  when  spoken  on  the  shores  of  the 
German  Ocean  by  the  Angles,  Saxons,  and  Jutes  of  the  conti- 
nent." * 

This,  the  Middle  English  Stage,  may  be  called  the  revolutionary 
period  of  the  language,  during  which  it  was  in  a  state  of  apparently 
hopeless  disorganization.  There  was  a  general  breaking  up  of  the 
old  grammatical  system ;  uncertainty,  confusion,  and  fluctuation 
prevailed  everywhere.  The  Northern,  the  Midland,  and  the  South- 
ern dialects,  each  with  certain  peculiar  inflectional  forms,  and  each 
represented  by  literary  works  of  some  note,  struggled  for  the  mas- 
tery. The  influx  of  French  words  too,  though  trifling  at  first,  had 
already  begun  ;  and  for  the  next  three  centuries  the  process  went 
on  with  increasing  rapidity.  Still  there  was  a  general  movement 
towards  simplification  and  stability ;  each  century  brought  the  Ian 
guage  nearer  to  modern  English. 

The  interest  of  the  writings  which  will  form  the  subject  of  this 
chapter  is  almost  exclusively  philological  and  historical.  Their 
literary  merits  are  small ;  but  they  supply  the  means  of  tracing  the 
course  of  the  language  through  its  many  varying  forms,  and. 
occasionally,  they  throw  a  powerful  light  on  the  feelings  and  as- 
pirations, the  political  and  social  condition  of  the  people.  We  shall 
give  them  but  a  passing  glance. 

If  we  except  a  few  fragments  of  verse — the  Hymn  of  St.  Godric, 
the  Ely  Song  of  King  Canute,  The  Here  Prophecy,  none  of  them  ex- 
ceeding eight  lines  in  length  — the  first  to  break  the  long  silence 
was  Layamon,  author  of  the  Brut.  According  to  his  own  account 
he  was  a  priest.  He  must  have  been  a  gentle,  pious,  patriotic  man, 
and  a  lover  of  tradition.  His  work,  written  early  in  the  thirteenth 
century,  is  a  chronicle  of  Britain,  and  is  mainly  a  translation  from 
the  French  of  the  Brut  tfAngleterre;  but  Layamon  has  introduced 
so  much  new  matter  into  his  work,  and  has  made  it  so  conversa- 
tional in  style,  that  it  is  more  than  double  the  length  of  the  original. 
It  is  a  free  narration  in  verse  of  Celtic  traditions  wrhich  had  been 

*  "  Lectures  on  the  Science  of  Language,"  1st  seriep.  p.  81.  Aser.  Edition. 


THE     ORMULUM  23 

.preserved  in  France  and  in  parts  of  England.  The  story  makes 
Brutus,  a  son  of  the  Trojan  Aeneas,  the  founder  of  the  line  of 
British  Monarchs.  The  style  of  the  work  bears  witness  to  Norman 
influence,  but  not  to  so  great  an  extent  as  might  have  been  expect- 
ed from  the  translator  of  a  French  original.  The  fact  that  it  was 
written  for  the  common  people  of  a  rural  district  was  favorable 
to  the  use  of  simple  English,  and  makes  it  a  valuable  illustration 
of  the  state  of  our  language  at  that  time.  "Written  at  least  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  years  after  the  Norman  Conquest,  it  is,  nevertheless, 
a  specimen  of  almost  pure  Saxon.  The  old  text  has  not  fifty 
words  taken  from  the  French.  The  foreign  influence,  however, 
appears  in  the  occasional  use  of  Norman  rhymes  amid  the  Saxon 
alliterative  versification. 

The  Ormulum  is  another  monument  of  our  old  literature,  and  is 
supposed  to  have  been  written  in  the  thirteenth  century.  One  of  its 
editors  describes  it  as  "  a  series  of  homilies  in  an  imperfect  state, 
composed  in  metre,  without  alliteration,  and,  except  in  very  few 
cases,  without  rhyme :  the  subject  of  the  homilies  being  supplied 
by  those  portions  of  the  New  Testament  which  were  read  in  the 
daily  services  of  the  church/'  The  author  himself  says,  "  If  any  one 
wants  to  know  why  I  have  done  this  deed,  why  I  have  turned  into 
English  the  Gospel's  holy  teaching  ;  I  have  done  it  in  order  that  all 
young  Christian  folks  may  depend  upon  that  only,  that  they  with 
their  whole  might  follow  aright  the  Gospel's  holy  teaching  in 
thought,  in  Avord,  in  deed."  The  text  reads  more  easily  than  Laya- 
mon's  Brut,  and  that  fact,  together  with  many  peculiarities  of 
structure,  indicates  that  the  work  is  more  recent.  At  the  time  of 
its  writing,  the  conflict  of  languages  and  dialects  in  England  was 
going  on,  and  the  people  made  sad  work  in  their  attempts  to  pro- 
nounce each  other's  speech.  In  order  to  save  his  verses  from  abuses 
of  mispronunciation,  ORM,  or  Ormin,  adopted  an  ingenious  use  of 
consonants  as  a  key  to  the  sounds  of  vowels.  After  every  short 
vowel  the  consonant  was  doubled,  and  the  reader,  of  whatever 
speech  he  might  be,  was  left  with  no  excuse  for  marring  the  sound 
of  the  verse.  A  single  couplet  will  illustrate  : 

"  This?  boc  iss  nemmned  Ornnulum, 
Forrthi  that  Orrm  itt  wrohhte." 

This  book  is  called  Ormulum.  because  Orm  wrote  it. 


24  THE     POETRY     OF     CHIVALRY. 

In  this  age  the  average  literary  taste  craved  the  narration  of 
romance  in  song.  It  was  native  to  the  French ;  but  English 
writers,  in  considerable  numbers,  sought  their  laurels  in  this  kind  of 
composition.  The  stories,  originally  written  in  the  French,  full  of 
love  and  adventure,  were  vital  with  the  spirit  of  chivalry.  Profes- 
sional minstrels,  knights,  and  even  kings  had  vied  in  their  compo- 
sition. They  had  a  tendency  to  group  themselves  about  greai 
names,  some  having  Alexander,  some  Charlemagne  as  their  central 
figure  ;  but  one  cluster,  the  Arthurian,  is  of  genuine  native  growth, 
and  this  one  happens  to  possess  the  highest  interest  of  them  all. 
Translations  and  imitations  of  these  French  romances  slowly  came 
into  popular  favor  with  the  English  people,  and  aided  in  the  fusion 
of  the  languages. 

But  the  patriotic  spirit  of  the  common  people  was  not  fully 
satisfied  in  imitating  foreign  poesy.  Many  spirited  political  songs 
of  English  origin,  and  ballads  full  of  characteristic  English  satire 
were  written.  One  of  these  ballads,  the  Old  and  the  Nightingale,  in 
giving  an  amusing  account  of  a  competition  in  song  between  the  two 
birds,  furnishes  perhaps  the  finest  specimen  of  the  popular  litera- 
ture of  the  thirteenth  century,  and  is  specially  interesting  as  the 
earliest  narrative  and  imaginative  English  poem  not  copied  from 
some  foreign  model. 

Writings  in  English  do  not  represent  the  entire  intellectual 
wealth  of  the  nation  during  this  Anglo -Norman  period ;  indeed 
they  form  but  a  small  portion.  For  almost  three  centuries  after 
the  Conquest,  French  continued  to  be  the  language  of  polite  litera- 
ture, and  Latin  the  language  of  theology,  philosophy,  science  and 
history.  In  these  departments  many  Englishmen  were  writing; 
but  they  were  contributors  to  a  foreign,  not  to  their  national  litera- 
ture. 

That  national  literature  has  now  reached  the  eve  of  its  first 
great  expansion.  It  has  been  in  existence  for  a  thousand  years, 
but  has  as  yet  produced  no  work  of  pre-eminent  merit,  no  name 
that  is  entitled  to  rank  among  intellects  of  the  highest  order.  Energy 
of  thought  and  expression,  natural  sweetness  and  simple  pathos, 
are  not  wanting ;  but  there  is  still  a  complete  absence  of  artistic 
form,  literary  skill,  and  the  higher  qualities  of  workmanship. 
Nothing  appears  to  portend  the  magnificent  outburst  that  is  at 


GEOFFBEY     CHAUCER.  25 

hand ;  but  the  student  of  history  can  discern  forces,  political, 
social,  and  spiritual,  at  work  beneath  the  smooth  surface,  destined 
within  a  few  years  to  produce  momentous  results.  The  national 
life  and  thought  of  England  are  now  passing  through  a  quicken 
ing  process ;  a  brilliant  page  in  her  history  is  about  to  open,  on 
which  will  appear  many  bright  names,  but  none  brighter  than  thai 
of  GEOFFREY  CHAUCEK,  the  first  man  who  speaks  to  the  hearts  of 
<dl  classes  of  the  English  people. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

GEOFFREY   CHAUCER. 

"I  consider  Chaucer  as  a  genial  day  in  an  English  spring."—  TJiomas  Warton. 

"I  take  increasing  delight  in  Chaucer.  '  *  *  *  How  exquisitely  tender  he  is, 
yet  how  perfectly  free  he  is  from  the  least  touch  of  sickly  melancholy  or  morhid 
drooping."—  5.  T.  Coleridge. 

"Here  was  a  healthy  and  hearty  man,  so  genuine  that  he  need  not  ask  whether 
he  were  genuine  or  no,  so  sincere  as  quite  to  forget  his  own  sincerity,  so  truly  pious 
that  he  could  be  happy  in  the  best  world  that  God  chose  to  make,  so  human  that  he 
loved  even  the  foibles  of  his  kind." 

"  There  is  no  touch  of  cynicism  in  all  he  wrote."—  J.  R.  Lowell. 


fourteenth  century  is  the  most  important  epoch  in 
-L  the  intellectual  history  of  Europe.  It  is  the  point 
of  contact  between  two  widely-differing  eras  in  the  social, 
religious,  and  political  annals  of  our  race.  Feudalism  and 
chivalry  had  fulfilled  their  mission,  and  were  yielding  to 
the  pressure  of  ideas  that  betokened  the  oncoming  of  the 
Eevival  of  Letters  and  the  Protestant  Eeformation.  Of 
this  great  transition  from  the  old  order  to  the  new,  the  per- 
sonal career  and  the  works  of  Chaucer,  the  first  great 
English  poet,  "the  Father  of  English  Poetry,"  furnish  us 
with  the  most  exact  type  and  expression  ;  for,  like  all  men 
of  the  highest  order  of  genius,  he  at  once  followed  and 
directed  the  intellectual  tendencies  of  his  age,  and  was  him- 
self the  "  abstract  and  brief  chronicle  "  of  the  spirit  of  his 
time.  In  the  age  in  which  he  lived  he  was  eminently  happy  ; 
the  magnificent  court  of  Edward  III.  had  carried  the  splen- 
dor of  chivalry  to  the  height  of  its  development;  the  victo- 
ries of  Sluys,  of  Crecy,  and  Poitiers,  by  exciting  the  national 


CHAUCER.  27 

pride,  tended  to  fuse  into  one  vigorous  nationality  the  two 
elements  which  formed  the  English  people  and  the  English 
language.  The  literature,  too,  abundant  in  quantity,  if  net 
remarkable  for  much  originality  of  form,  was  rapidly  taking 
a  purely  English  tone  ;  the  rhyming  chronicles  and  legen- 
dary romances  were  either  translated  into,  or  originally  com- 
posed in,  the  vernacular  language. 

The  date  of  Chaucer's  birth  is  uncertain. 
B.  1328.]  There  are  reasons  for  fixing  it  at  1328,  and  yet 
D.  1400.]  others  in  favor  of  1340.  He  is  supposed  to 
have  been  a  child  of  wealth.  His  surname, 
the  French  Chaussier,  points  to  a  Continental  origin,  which 
at  that  time  was  almost  a  sure  sign  of  aristocratic  rank.  He 
was  "  armed  a  knight/'  he  held  lucrative  and  responsible  posi- 
tions, he  married  one  of  the  Queen's  maids  of  honor.  These 
facts  indicate  that  he  belonged  to  the  higher  classes  of 
English  society.  But  whatever  his  social  position  may  have 
been,  his  spirit  was  tolerant  and  generous,  he  took  broad 
views  of  life,  and,  having  the  soul  of  a  true  poet,  he  loved 
nature  and  humanity. 

In  the  Testament  of  Love,  Chaucer  speaks  of  London  as 
his  birth-place.  In  his  Court  of  Love,  he  speaks  of  him- 
self under  the  name  and  character  of  "  Philogenet— o/  Cam- 
bridge, Clerk; "  but  this  hardly  proves  that  he  was  educated 
at  Cambridge.  During  the  years  1356-9  he  was  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  wife  of  the  Duke  of  Clarence,  probably  as  page. 
He  was  taken  prisoner  by  the  French  in  1359,  and  being 
ransomed,  according  to  the  custom  of  those  times,  was 
enabled  to  return  to  England  in  1360. 

He  next  appears,  in  1367,  as  one  of  the  "valets  of  the 
king's  chamber,'"'  and  writs  are  addressed  to  him  as  "  dilectus 
yalettus  noster"  His  official  career  was  active  and  even 
distinguished ;  during  a  long  period,  he  enjoyed  various 
profitable  offices,  having  been  for  twelve  years  comp- 
troller of  the  customs  and  subsidy  of  wools,  skins,  and 


28  C  H  A  U  C  E  il . 

tanned  hides  in  the  port  of  London ;  and  he  seems  also 
to  have  been  occasionally  employed  in  diplomatic  negotia- 
tions. Thus  he  was,  in  1373,  associated  with  two  citizens 
of  Genoa  in  a  commission  to  Italy.  On  this  occasion 
he  is  supposed  to  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Petrarch, 
then  the  most  illustrious  man  of  letters  in  Europe. 
Partly  in  consequence  of  his  marriage  with  a  sister  of  the 
wife  of  John  of  Gaunt,  and  partly  perhaps  from  sharing  in 
some  of  the  political  and  religious  opinions  of  that  power- 
ful prince,  Chaucer  was  identified,  to  a  considerable  degree, 
with  the  household  and  with  the  party  of  the  Duke  of  Lan- 
caster. His  Complaynte  of  the  Blaclce,  Knight,  his  Dream, 
and  his  BoJce  of  the  Duchesse  were  suggested  to  him,  the 
first  by  the  courtship  of  the  duke  and  the  duchess  Blanche, 
the  second  by  their  marriage,  and  the  third  by  her  death  in 
1369.  In  the  Dream,  allusions  to  Chaucer's  own  courtship 
and  marriage  may  be  found.  One  of  the  most  interesting 
particulars  of  his  life  was  his  election  as  representative  for 
Kent  in  the  Parliament  of  1386.  In  the  political  turmoil 
of  this  year  he  lost  all  his  offices,  and  fled  from  England. 
After  a  brief  exile  he  returned ;  and  if  there  be  any  truth 
in  the  notion  that  the  Testament  of  Love  is  an  allegorical 
description  of  a  chapter  in  the  poet's  own  life,  he  was 
obliged  to  submit  to  the  bitter  humiliation  of  imprison- 
ment. 

In  1389,  however,  he  was  appointed  to  the  office  of  clerk 
of  the  king's  works,  which  he  held  for  about  two  years. 
There  is  reason  to  believe  that,  though  his  pecuniary  cir- 
cumstances must  have  been,  during  a  great  part  of  his  life, 
in  proportion  to  the  position  he  occupied  in  the  state  and 
in  society,  his  last  days  were  more  or  less  clouded  by  embar- 
rassment. His  death  took  place  at  Westminster  on  the 
25th  of  October,  1400. 

An  ancient  and  probably  authentic  portrait  of  Chaucer, 
attributed  to  his  contemporary  and  fellow-poet,  Occleve,  as 


CHAUCER.  29 

well  as  a  curious  and  beautiful  miniature,  introduced, 
according  to  the  fashion  of  those  times,  into  one  of  the 
most  valuable  manuscript  copies  of  his  works,  give  this 
great  poet  a  pleasing  and  meditative  countenance,  and  indi- 
cate that  he  was  somewhat  corpulent.  In  the  prologue  to 
The  Rime  of  Sir  Thopas,  the  host  of  the  Tabard,  himself 
represented  as  a  "  large  man,"  and  a  "  faire  burgess,"  calls 
upon  Chaucer  in  his  turn  to  contribute  a  story  to  the  amuse- 
ment of  the  pilgrims,  and  rallies  him  on  his  corpulency,  as 
well  as  on  his  studious  and  abstracted  air : 


"  What  man  art  thon  ?  "  quod  he  ; 
"Thou  lokest  as  thou  woldest  fynde  an  hare  ; 
For  ever  on  the  ground  I  se  the  stare. 
Approche  nere,  and  loke  merrily. 
Now  ware  you,  sires,  and  let  this  man  haye  space, 
lie  in  the  wast  is  schape  as  well  as  I : 
He  semeth  elvisch  by  his  countenance, 
For  unto  no  wight  doth  he  daliaunce." 


The  literary  and  intellectual  career  of  Chaucer  divides 
itself  into  two  periods,  closely  corresponding  to  the  two 
great  social  and  political  tendencies  which  meet  in  the 
fourteenth  century.  His  earlier  productions  bear  the 
stamp  of  the  Chivalric,  his  later  and  more  original  crea- 
tions, of  the  Italian  literature.  It  is  more  than  probable 
that  the  poet's  visits  to  Italy,  then  the  fountain  of  new  lit- 
erary life,  brought  him  into  contact  with  the  works  and  the 
men  by  whose  example  the  change  in  the  taste  of  Europe 
was  brought  about.  The  religious  element,  too,  enters  large- 
ly into  the  character  of  his  writings,  though  it  is  difficult 
to  ascertain  how  far  the  poet  sympathized  with  the  bold 
doctrines  of  Wycliffe,  who,  like  himself,  was  favored  and 
protected  by  John  of  Gaunt,  fourth  son  of  Edward  III. 
Many  satirical  passages  in  his  poems  indicate  that  in  hos- 
tility to  the  monastic  orders  and  in  contempt  for  corrupt 
men  in  the  church,  he  heartily  sympathized  with  Wycliffe ; 


30  C  H  AUGER. 

but  he  probably  did  not  accept  the  theological  opinions  of 
the  man  who  was  then  considered  the  arch-heretic. 

Eight  of  the  longer  works  which  compose  the  volumin- 
ous collection  of  Chaucer's  poetry,  are  to  be  ascribed  to  a 
direct  or  indirect  imitation  of  purely  Romance  models, 
while  three  fall  naturally  under  the  category  of  the  Italian 
or  Renaissance  type.  Of  the  former  class  the  principal  are 
the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  the  Court  of  Love,  the  Assembly 
of  Fowls,  the  Cuckow  and  the  Nightingale,  the  Flower  and 
the  Leaf,  Chaucer's  Dream,  the  BoTce  of  the  Duchesse,  and 
the  House  of  Fame.  Under  the  latter  we  must  range  the 
Legende  of  Goode  Women,  Troilus  and  Creseidc,  Anelyda 
and  Arcyte,  and  above  all  the  Canterbury  Tales. 

The  Romaunt  of  the  Rose  is  a  translation  of  the  famous 
French  allegory,  Le  Roman  de  la  Rose,  the  earliest  monu- 
ment of  French  literature  in  the  thirteenth  century.  The 
original  is  of  inordinate  length,  containing  twenty-two 
thousand  verses,  even  in  the  unfinished  state  in  which  it 
was  left.  According  to  the  almost  universal  practice  of  the 
old  Romance  poets,  the  story  is  put  into  the  form  of  a  dream 
or  vision.  Lover,  the  hero,  is  alternately  aided  and  hindered 
in  his  undertakings  by  a  multitude  of  beneficent  and  malig- 
nant personages.  His  most  romantic  undertaking,  the  cull- 
ing of  an  enchanted  rose,  gives  a  name  to  the  poem.  Chau- 
cer's translation,  in  the  octosyllabic  Trouvere  measure  of  the 
original,  consists  of  seven  thousand,  six  hundred  and  ninety- 
nine  verses.  The  portions  omitted  either  never  were  trans- 
lated by  the  English  poet  on  account  of  his  dislike  of 
their  immoral  and  irreligious  tendency,  or  were  left  out 
by  the  copyist  from  the  early  English  manuscripts.  The 
translation  gives  proof  of  Chaucer's  remarkable  ear  for 
metrical  harmony,  and  also  of  his  picturesque  imagination ; 
for  though  in  many  places  he  follows  the  original  with 
scrupulous  fidelity,  he  not  unfrequently  adds  vigorous 
touches  of  his  own.  The  most  remarkable  illustration  of 


CHAUCER.  31 

this  is  the  description  of  the  character  of  a  true  gentleman, 
not  a  hint  of  which  can  be  found  in  the  original.* 

The  Court  of  Love  is  written  in  the  name  of  "Philo- 
genet  of  Cambridge,"  clerk  (or  student),  who  is  directed  by 
Mercury  to  appear  at  the  Court  of  Venus.  The  above 
designation  has  induced  some  critics  to  suppose  that  the 
poet  meant  to  indicate  that  he  had  studied  at  Cambridge. 
He  gives  a  description  of  the  Castle  of  Love,  where 
Admetus  and  Alcestis  preside  as  king  and  queen.  Pbilo- 
genet  is  conducted  to  the  Temple,  sees  Venus  and  Cupid, 
and  hears  the  oath  of  allegiance  and  obedience  to  the 
twenty  commandments  of  Love  administered  to  the  faith- 
ful. The  hero  is  then  presented  to  the  Lady  Eosial,  with 
whom,  in  strict  accordance  with  ProvenQal  poetical  custom, 
he  has  become  enamoured  in  a  dream.  The  most  curious 
part  of  the  poem  is  the  celebration  of  the  grand  festival  of 
Love,  on  May-day,  when  an  exact  parody  of  the  Catholic 
matin  service  for  Trinity  Sunday  is  chanted  by  various  birds 
in  honor  of  the  God  of  Love. 

In  the  Assembly  of  Fowls  we  have  a  debate  carried  on 
before  the  Parliament  of  Birds,  to  decide  the  claims  of  three 
eagles  to  the  possession  of  a  beautiful  formel  (female,  or 
hen),  by  which  the  Lady  Blanche  of  Lancaster  is  probably 
intended. 

The  Cuckou:  and  tlte  Niylitingale,  though  of  no  great 
length,  is  one  of  the  most  charming  among  this  class  of 
Chaucer's  productions :  it  describes  a  controversy  between  the 
two  birds.  To  the  poets  and  allegorists  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
the  Cuckoo  was  the  emblem  of  profligate  celibacy,  while 
the  Nightingale  was  the  type  of  constant  and  virtuous  con- 
jugal love.  In  this  poem  we  meet  with  a  striking  example 
of  that  exquisite  sensibility  to  the  sweetness  of  external  na- 
ture, and  in  particular  to  the  song  of  birds,  which  was  pos- 

*  Lines  2187-3274. 


32  CHAUCER. 

sessed  by  Chaucer  in  a  higher  degree,  perhaps,  than  IT  any 
other  poet  in  the  world.* 

The  Flower  and  the  Leaf  is,  an  allegory,  probably  written 
to  celebrate  the  marriage  of  Philippa,  John  of  Gaunt'a 
daughter,  with  John,  king  of  Portugal.  A  lady,  unable  to 
sleep,  wanders  out  into  a  forest,  on  a  spring  morning,  and 
seating  herself  in  a  delightful  arbor,  listens  to  the  alternate 
songs  of  the  goldfinch  and  the  nightingale.  Her  reverie  is 
suddenly  interrupted  by  the  approach  of  a  band  of  ladies 
clothed  in  white,  and  garlanded  with  laurel  and  wood- 
bine. They  accompany  their  queen  in  singing  a  roundelay, 
and  are  in  their  turn  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  trum- 
pets and  by  the  appearance  of  nine  armed  knights,  fol- 
lowed by  a  splendid  train  of  cavaliers  and  ladies.  These 
joust  for  an  hour,  and  then  advancing  to  the  first  company, 
each  knight  leads  a  lady  to  a  laurel,  to  which  they  make  an 
obeisance.  Another  troop  of  ladies  approaches,  habited  in 
green,  and  doing  reverence  to  a  tuft  of  flowers,  while  the 
leader  sings  a  pastoral  song,  in  honor  of  the  daisy.  The 
sports  are  broken  off,  first  by  the  heat  of  the  sun,  which 
withers  all  the  flowers,  and  afterwards  by  a  violent  storm, 
in  which  the  knights  and  the  ladies  in  green  are  pitifully 
drenched ;  while  the  company  in  white  shelter  themselves 
under  the  laurel.  Then  follows  the  explanation  of  the 
allegory:  the  white  queen  and  her  party  represent  Chastity  ; 
the  knights,  the  Nine  Worthies  ;  the  cavaliers  crowned  with 
laurel,  the  Knights  of  the  Hound  Table,  the  Peers  of  Char- 
lemagne, and  the  Knights  of  the  Garter.  The  Queen  and 
ladies  in  green  represent  Flora  and  the  followers  of  sloth 
and  idleness.  In  general,  the  flower  typifies  vain  pleasure ; 
the  leaf,  virtue  and  industry;  the  former  being  "a  thing 
fading  with  every  blast,"  while  the  latter  "abides  with  the 
root,  notwithstanding  the  frosts  and  winter  storms."  The 

*  See  the  inimitable  passage  from  line  65  to  85. 


CHAUCER.  33 

poem  is  written  in  the  seven-lined  stanza,  and  contains  many 
curious  and  beautiful  passages. 

-  For  its  extraordinary  union  of  brilliant  description  with 
learning  and  humor,  the  House  of  Fame  is  sufficient  of 
itself  to  establish  Chaucer's  reputation.  Under  the  popular 
form  of  a  dream  or  vision,  it  gives  us  a  vivid  and  striking 
picture  of  the  Temple  of  Glory,  crowded  with  aspirants 
for  immortal  renown,  and  adorned  with  myriad  statues 
of  great  poets  and  historians.  The  description  of  this 
temple  is  the  most  interesting  part  of  the  poem.  Its 
architectural  details  are  carefully  set  forth,  and  its  charms 
are  charmingly  described.  In  richness  of  fancy  it  far  sur- 
passes Pope's  imitation,  the  Temple  of  Fame.  When  the 
poet  leaves  the  temple,  he  is,  in  his  dream,  borne  away  by 
an  eagle  to  a.  house  sixty  miles  in  length,  built  of  twigs,  and 
blown  about  in  the  wind.  This  is  the  House  of  Rumor, 
thronged  with  pilgrims,  pardoners,  sailors,  and  other  re- 
tailers of  wonderful  reports. 

"  And  eke  this  hems  hath  of  entrees 
As  fell  of  leves  as  ben  on  trees, 
In  somer  whan  they  grene  ben, 
And  on  the  rove  men  may  yet  seen 
A  thousand  holes,  and  wel  moo 
To  leten  wel  the  soune  oute  goo." 

The  Legende  of  Goode  'Women  was  one  of  Chaucer's 
latest  compositions.  Its  apologies  for  what  had  been  writ- 
ten in  his  earlier  years,  and  its  mention  of  many  of  his  pre- 
vious works,  clearly  prove  that  it  was  produced  after  much 
of  his  busy  life  was  spent.  The  avowed  purpose  of  the  poem 
is  to  make  a  retraction  of  his  unfavorable  descriptions  of  the 
character  of  women ;  and  for  this  purpose  he  undertakes  to 
give  a  poetical  sketch  of  nineteen  ladies,  whose  lives  of  chas- 
tity and  worthiness  redeem  the  sex  from  his  former  re- 
proaches. The  work  was  left  incomplete.  The  nine 
sketches  given  are  closely  translated  from  Ovid,  but  the  col- 
oring of  the  stories  is  Catholic  and  mediaeval.  Dido,  C-leopa- 


34  THE     CANTERBURY     TALES. 

tra  and  Medea  are  regarded  as  the  martyrs  of  Saint  Venus 
and  Saint  Cupid.  Many  striking  original  descriptions  are 
introduced  by  Chaucer.  The  Prologue  is  by  far  the  finest 
portion  of  the  poem.  Here,  and  everywhere  in  Chaucer, 
the  rhythm  is  perfect  when  the  verses  are  properly  read,  and 
there  is  a  display  of  his  command  of  the  resources  of  the 
English  language.  Among  the  blemishes  of  this  poem 
Warton  has  pointed  out  several  amusing  anachronisms. 

The  generations  contemporary  with  and  succeeding  the 
age  of  Chaucer  placed  his  Troilus  and  Creseide  nearest  to 
the  Canterbury  Tales.  The  materials  for  this  poem  were 
drawn  from  Boccaccio.  The  story  was  common,  and  ex- 
tremely popular  in  the  Middle  Ages,  and  even  later.  Shake- 
speare himself  dramatized  it.  In  many  passages  Chaucer 
adhered  closely  to  the  text  of  Boccaccio,  and  he  adopted  the 
musical  Italian  stanza  of  seven  lines  ;  but  in  the  conduct  of 
the  story,  in  the  development  of  noble,  ideal  characters,  and 
in  a  delicate  appreciation  of  moral  sentiment,  lie  was  far 
superior  to  his  Italian  contemporary. 

Chaucer's  greatest  and  most  original  work  is.  beyond  all 
question,  the  Canterbury  Tales  (13).  It  is  in  this  that  he 
has  poured  forth  in  inexhaustible  abundance  his  stores  of 
wit,  humor,  pathos,  and  knowledge  of  humanity:  it  is  this 
which  will  place  him,  till  the  remotest  posterity,  in  the  first 
rank  among  poets  and  character-painters.  An  exact  por- 
traiture of  the  language  and  manners  of  society  in  a  remote 
age  could  not  fail  of  awakening  deep  interest,  even  if  exe- 
cuted by  an  inferior  hand.  How  great,  then,  may  be  our 
delight  when  the  magical  power  of  a  poet  evokes  our 
ancestors  from  the  fourteenth  century,  and  causes  them 
to  pass  before  our  vision  "  in  their  habit,  as  they  lived/' 
acting  and  speaking  in  a  manner  invariably  true  to  general 
nature. 

The  plan  of  the  Canterbury  Tales,  though  very  simple, 
is  masterly.  It  enables  the  poet  to  make  the  representatives 


THE     CANTERBURY     TALES.  35 

of  various  classes  of  society  tell  a  series  of  tales,  extremely 
beautiful  when  regarded  as  compositions  and  judged  on 
their  independent  merits,  but  deriving  an  infinitely  higher 
interest  from  the  way  in  which  they  harmonize  with  their 
respective  narrators.  After  giving  a  brief,  picturesque  de- 
scription of  spring,  the  poet  informs  us  that  being  about  to 
make  a  pilgrimage  from  London  to  the  shrine  of  Thomas 
a  Becket  in  the  cathedral  of  Canterbury,  he  passes  the  night 
previous  to  his  departure  at  the  Tabard  Inn  in  South  wark. 
While  at  the  "  hostelrie  "  he  meets  many  pilgrims  bound  to 
the  same  destination  : — 

"  In  Southwcrk  at  the  Tabard  aa  I  lay, 
Recly  to  wenden  on  my  pilgrimage 
To  Canterbury  with  ful  devout  corage, 
At  night  was  come  into  that  hostelrie 
Wei  nyue  and  twenty  in  a  companye* 
Of  sondry  folk,  by  aventure  y-falle 
In  felawschipe,  and  pilgryms  were  thei  alle, 
That  toward  Canterbury  wolden  ryde. " 

This  goodly  company,  assembled  in  a  manner  so  natural 
in  those  times  of  pilgrimages  and  of  difficult  and  dangerous 
roads,  agree  to  travel  in  a  body ;  and  at  supper  Harry  Bai- 
ley, the  host  of  the  Tabard,  a  jolly  and  sociable  fellow,  pro- 
poses to  accompany  the  party  as  a  guide,  and  suggests  that 
they  may  much  enliven  the  tedium  of  their  journey  by  re- 
lating stories  as  they  ride.  He  is  accepted  by  the  whole 
society  as  a  judge  or  moderator,  by  whose  decisions  every  one 
is  to  abide.  The  plan  of  the  whole  work,  had  Chaucer  com- 
pleted it,  would  have  comprised  the  adventures  on  the  jour- 
ney, the  arrival  at  Canterbury,  a  description,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, of  the  splendid  religious  ceremonies  and  the  visits  to  the 
numerous  shrines  and  relics  in  the  Cathedral,  the  return  to 
London,  the  farewell  supper  at  the  Tabard,  and  the  sepa- 
ration of  the  pleasant  company.  The  jovial  guide  proposes 

*  But  in  his  subsequent  enumeration  (see  next  page)  Chaucer  counts  thirty  per 
eons. 


36  THE     CANTERBURY     TALES. 

that  each  pilgrim  shall  relate  two  tales  on  the  journey  out, 
and  two  more  on  the  way  home ;  and  that,  on  the  return  of 
the  party  to  London,  he  who  shall  be  adjudged  to  have 
related  the  best  and  most  amusing  story,  shall  sup  at  the 
common  cost.  Such  is  the  general  plan  of  the  poem,  and 
its  development  is  natural.  The  tales  admirably  accord 
with  the  characters  of  the  persons  who  relate  them,  and  the 
remarks  and  criticisms  to  which  they  give  rise  are  no  less 
humorous  and  appropriate.  Some  of  the  stories  suggest 
others,  just  as  it  would  happen  in  real  life,  under  the  same 
circumstances.  The  pilgrims  are  persons  of  almost  all 
ranks  and  classes  of  society.  In  the  inimitable  description 
of  manners,  persons,  dress,  and  all  the  equipage,  with  which 
the  poet  has  introduced  them,  we  behold  a  vast  and  minute 
portrait  gallery  of  the  social  state  of  England  in  the  four- 
teenth century.  They  are — (1.)  A  Knight;  (2.)  A  Squire; 
(3.)  A  Yeoman  ;  (4.)  A  Prioress,  a  lady  of  rank,  superior  of 
a  nunnery ;  (5,  6,  7,  8.)  A  Nun  and  three  Priests,  in  attend- 
ance upon  this  lady;  (9.)  A  Monk,  represented  as  hand- 
somely dressed  and  equipped,  and  passionately  fond  of 
hunting  and  good  cheer;  (10.)  A  Friar,  or  Mendicant 
Monk;  (11.)  A  Merchant;  (12.)  A  Clerk,  or  Student  of 
the  University  of  Oxford ;  (13.)  A  Serjeant  of  the  Law ; 
(14.)  A  Franklin,  or  rich  country  gentleman;  (15,  16,  17, 
18,  19.)  Five  wealthy  burgesses,  or  tradesmen, — a  Haber- 
dasher, or  dealer  in  silk  and  cloth,  a  Carpenter,  a  Weaver, 
a  Dyer,  and  a  Tapisser,  or  maker  of  carpets  and  hangings ; 
(20.)  A  Cook,  or  rather  the  keeper  of  a  cook's-shop;  (21.) 
A  Shipman,  the  master  of  a  trading  vessel ;  (22.)  A  Doctor 
of  Physic;  (23.)  A  Wife  of  Bath,  a  rich  cloth-manufac- 
turer; (24.)  A  Parson,  or  secular  parish  priest;  (25.)  A 
Ploughman,  the  brother  of  the  preceding  personage ;  (26.) 
A  Miller;  (27.)  A  Manciple,  or  steward  of  a  college  or  relig- 
ious house ;  (28.)  A  Reeve  ;  (29.)  A  Sompnour,  or  Sumner, 
an  officer  whose  duty  was  to  summon  delinquents  to  appear 


THE     CANTERBURY     TALES.  37 

in  the  ecclesiastical  courts ;  (30.)  A  Pardoner,  or  vendor  of 
Indulgences  from  Eome.  To  these  thirty  persons,  must  be 
added  Chaucer  himself,  and  the  Host  of  the  Tabard,  making 
in  all  thirty-two. 

If  each  of  these  pilgrims  had  related  two  tales  on  the 
journey  to  Canterbury,  and  two  on  the  return,  the  work 
would  have  contained  one  hundred  and  twenty-eight  stories, 
independently  of  the  subordinate  incidents  and  conversa- 
tions ;  but  the  pilgrims  do  not  arrive  at  their  destination, 
and  there  are  many  evidences  of  confusion  in  the  tales 
which  Chaucer  has  given  us,  leading  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  materials  were  not  only  incomplete,  but  also  were  left  in 
an  uuarranged  state  by  the  poet.  The  stories  that  we  pos- 
sess are  twenty-five  in  number, — three  of  which,  the  Cook's, 
the  Squire's,  and  Chaucer's  first,  are  "  left  half,"  or  less  than 
half,  "  told,"  and  one,  Gamely  n?  is  either  entirely  spurious 
or  'written  by  the  poet  for  a  different  purpose.  Eleven  of 
the  pilgrims  are  left  silent.  A  Canon  and  his  Yeoman  un- 
expectedly join  the  cavalcade  during  the  journey,  but  it  is 
uncertain  whether  this  episode,  which  was  probably  an  after- 
thought of  the  poet,  takes  place  on  the  journey  to  or  from 
Canterbury.  The  Canon,  who  is  represented  as  an  Alche- 
mist, half  swindler  and  half  dupe,  is  driven  away  from  the 
company  by  shame  at  his  attendant's  indiscreet  disclosures ; 
and  the  Yeoman,  remaining  with  the  pilgrims,  relates  a  most 
amusing  story  of  the  villanous  artifices  of  the  charlatans 
who  pretended  to  possess  the  Great  Arcanum.  The  stories 
narrated  by  the  pilgrims  are  admirably  introduced  by  what 
the  author  calls  "prologues,"  consisting  of  remarks  and 
criticisms  on  the  preceding  tale,  and  of  incidents  of  the 
journey.  The  Tales  are  all  in  verse,  with  the  exception  of 
two,  that  of  the  Parson,  and  Chaucer's  second  narrative,  the 

*  The  Cook's  Tale  of  Gamelyn,  if  really  written  by  Chaucer,  was  a  close  copy 
of  one  of  the  ballad  etories  common  among  the  people,  and  was  perhaps  intended 
to  be  related  on  the  journey  home. 


38  THE     CANTERBURY     TALES. 

allegorical  story  of  Melibeus  and  his  wife  Prudence.  Those 
in  verse  exhibit  an  endless  variety  of  metrical  forms,  used 
with  consummate  ease  and  dexterity ;  indeed,  no  English 
poet  is  more  exquisitely  melodious  than  Chaucer.  The  na- 
ture of  the  versification  will  often  assist  us  in  tracing  the 
sources  wrhence  he  derived  or  adapted  his  materials.  He  ap- 
pears in  no  instance  to  have  taken  the  trouble  to  invent  the 
intrigues  of  his  stories,  but  to  have  freely  borrowed  them, 
either  from  the  multitudinous  fabliaux  of  the  Proven 93! 
poets,  the  legends  of  the  mediaeval  chroniclers,  or  the  im- 
mense storehouse  of  the  Gesta  Romanorum,  and  the  rich 
treasury  of  the  early  Italian  writers. 

The  Tales  themselves  may  be  roughly  divided  into  the 
two  great  classes  of  serious,  tragic  or  pathetic,  and  comic 
or  humorous.  We  are  filled  with  delight  and  admiration, 
whether  we  study  his  wonderful  painting  of  character,  the 
conciseness  and  vividness  of  his  descriptions,  the  loftiness 
of  his  sentiment  and  the  intensity  of  his  pathos,  or  revel  in 
the  richness  of  his  humor  and  the  surpassingly  droll,  yet 
perfectly  natural  extravagance  of  his  comic  scenes.  The 
finest  of  the  pathetic  stories  are,  the  Kniyhfs  Tale — the 
longest  of  them  all,  in  which  is  related  the  adventure  of 
Palamon  and  Arcite  :  the  Squire's  Tale,  a  wild,  half-Oriental 
story  of  love,  chivalry,  and  enchantment;  the  Man  of  Laic's 
Tale,  the  beautiful  and  pathetic  story  of  Constance ;  the 
Prioress's  Tale,  the  charming  legend  of  "  litel  Hew  of  Lin- 
'coln,"  the  child  who  was  murdered  for  perseveringly  singing 
his  hymn  to  the  Virgin  ;  and  above  all  the  Clerk  of  Oxford's 
Tale,  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  pathetic  narration  in  the 
whole  range  of  literature.  This,  the  story  of  Griselda,  the 
model  and  heroine  of  wifely  patience  and  obedience,  is  the 
tenderest  of  all  the  serious  narratives,  as  the  Knight's  Tale 
is  the  masterpiece  among  the  descriptions  of  love  and  chiv- 
alric  magnificence. 

The  KnifjWf  Tale  is'freely  borrowed  from  the  Tlieseida 


THE     CANTEKBUKY    TALES.  39 

of  Boccaccio.  Though  the  action  and  personages  of  this 
noble  story  are  assigned  to  classical  antiquity,  the  senti- 
ments, manners,  and  feelings  of  the  persons  introduced  are 
those  of  chivalric  Europe ;  the  "  Two  Noble  Kinsmen," 
Palamon  and  Arcite,  being  types  of  the  knightly  character. 
The  Squire's  Tale  bears  evident  marks  of  Oriental  origin ; 
but  whether  it  be  a  legend  directly  derived  from  Eastern 
literature,  or  received  by  Chaucer  after  having  filtered 
through  a  Romance  version,  is  now  uncertain.  It  is  equal 
to  the  preceding  story  in  splendor  and  variety  of  incident 
and  in  word-painting,  but  far  inferior  in  depth  of  pathos 
and  ideal  elevation  of  sentiment;  yet  it  was  by  the  Squire's 
Tale  that  Milton  characterized  Chaucer  in  that  passage  of 
the  'Penseroso  where  he  evokes  the  recollections  of  the  great 
poet : — 

"  And  call  up  him  that  left  half-told 
The  story  of  Cambuscan  hold, 
Of  Cambal,  and  of  Algarsife, 
And  who  had  Canace  to  wife 
That  owned  the  virtuous  ring  and  glass; 
And  of  the  wondrous  horse  of  brass 
On  which  the  Tartar  king  did  ride." 

The  Man  of  Law's  Tale  is  taken  with  little  variation 
from  Grower's  voluminous  poem,  "  Confessio  Amantis"  the 
incidents  of  Gower's  narrative  being  in  their  turn  traceable 
to  a  multitude  of  romances. 

The  most  pathetic  of  Chaucer's  stories,  that  of  Patient 
Griselda,  narrated  by  the  clerk  of  Oxford,  is  traceable  to 
Petrarch's  Latin  translation  of  the  last  tale  in  Boccaccio's 
Decameron. 

The  finest  of  Chaucer's  comic  and  humorous  stories  are 
those  of  the  Miller,  the  Reeve,  and  the  Sompnour.  Among 
these  it  is  difficult  to  give  the  palm  for  drollery,  acute  paint- 
ing of  human  nature,  and  exquisite  ingenuity  of  incident. 
It  is  much  to  be  regretted  that  the  comic  stories  turn  upon 
events  of  a  kind  which  the  refinement  of  modern  manners 


40  THE     CANTEKBURY     TALES. 

renders  it  impossible  to  analyze  ;  but  it  should  be  remem- 
bered that  society  in  Chaucer's  day,  though  perhaps  not  less 
moral  in  reality,  was  far  more  outspoken  and  simple,  and 
permitted  and  enjoyed  allusions  which  are  proscribed  by  the 
more  precise  delicacy  of  this  age. 

Two  of  these  tales,  as  has  been  stated,  are  written  in 
prose.  These  deviations  from  what  seems  to  have  been  the 
original  plan,  are  very  naturally  made.  When  Chaucer  is 
applied  to  by  the  Host,  he  commences  a  rambling,  puerile 
romance  of  chivalry,  entitled  the  Rime  of  Sir  T/iopas, 
which  promises  to  be  an  interminable  story  of  knight-errant 
adventures,  combats  with  giants,  dragons,  and  enchanters, 
and  is  written  in  the  exact  style  and  metre  of  the  Trouvere 
narrative  poems — the  only  instance  of  this  versification  in 
the  Canterbury  Tales.  He  goes  on  gallantly  "  in  the  style 
his  books  of  chivalry  had  taught  him,"  like  Don  Quixote, 
"  imitating,  as  near  as  he  could,  their  very  phrase  ; "  but  he 
is  suddenly  interrupted,  with  many  expressions  of  comic 
disgust,  by  the  merry  host : — 

" '  No  mor  of  this,  for  Goddes  dignite  1 ' 
Quod  our  Hoste,  '  for  thou  makest  me 
So  wery  of  thy  verray  lewednesse, 
That,  al  so  wisly  God  my  soule  tilesse, 
Myn  eeres  aken  for  thy  drafty  speche. 
Now  such  a  rym  the  devel  I  hyteche ! 
This  may  wel  be  rym  do^erel,  quod  he." 

Chaucer  took  this  ingenious  method  of  ridiculing  and 
caricaturing  the  Romance  poetry,  which  had  reached  the 
lowest  point  of  the  commonplace.  Then,  with  great  good- 
nature and  a  readiness  which  marks  the  man  of  the  world, 
he  offers  to  tell  " a  litel  thing  in  prose;"  and  commences 
the  long  allegorical  tale  of  Melibeus  and  his  wife  Prudence, 
in  which,  though  the  matter  is  often  tiresome  enough,  he 
shows  himself  as  great  a  master  of  prose  as  of  poetry. 

The  other  prose  tale  is  narrated  by  the  Parson.  He  is 
represented  as  a  simple  and  narrow-minded  though  pious 


CHAUCER.  41 

and  large-hearted  pastor,  who  characteristically  refuses  to  in- 
dulge the  company  with  what  can  only  minister  to  vain 
pleasure,  and  proposes  something  that  may  tend  to  edifica- 
tion, "  moralite  and  vertuous  matiere ; "  and  so  he  com- 
mences a  long  and  very  curious  sermon  on  the  seven  deadly 
gins,  their  causes  and  remedies.  His  discourse  is  a  most 
interesting  specimen  of  the  theological  literature  of  the 
day.  It  is  divided  and  subdivided  with  all  the  painful 
minuteness  of  scholastic  divinity  ;  but  it  breathes  through- 
out a  noble  spirit  of  piety,  and  in  many  passages  attains 
great  dignity  of  expression. 

Besides  these  two  Canterbury  Tales,  Chaucer  wrote  in 
prose  a  translation  of  Boethius's  De  Consolatione,  an  imita- 
tion of  that  work,  under  the  title  of  The  Testament  of  Love, 
and  an  incomplete  astrological  work,  On  the  Astrolabe,  ad- 
dressed to  his  son  Lewis. 

The  general  plan  of  the  Canterbury  Tales  is  believed 
to  have  been  taken  from  the  Decameron  of  Boccaccio, 
though  the  English  poet's  conception  is  infinitely  supe- 
rior to  that  of  the  Italian,  whose  ten  accomplished  young 
gentlemen  and  ladies  assemble  in  their  luxurious  villa 
to  escape  from  the  terrible  plague  which  is  devastating 
Florence. 

The  difficulty  of  reading  and  understanding  Chaucer  has 
been  much  exaggerated.  The  principal  facts  that  the 
student  should  keep  in  mind  are,  that  the  many  French 
words  in  his  writings  had  not  been  so  modified,  by  changes 
in  their  orthography  and  pronunciation,  as  to  become 
Anglicized,  and  are  therefore  to  be  read  with  their  French 
accent;  secondly,  that  the  final  e  which  terminates  many 
English  words  is  to  be  pronounced  as  a  separate  syllable, 
where  the  word  following  does  not  begin  with  a  vowel  or 
with  the  letter  A;  and,  finally,  that  the  past  termination  of 
the  verb,  ed,  is  almost  invariably  to  be  made  a  separate 


43  CHAUCER. 

syllable*  Some  curious  traces  of  the  old  Anglo-Saxon 
grammar,  as  the  inflections  of  the  personal  and  possessive 
pronouns,  are  still  retained,  together'  with  a  few  details  of 
the  Teutonic  formation  of  the  verb. 

Many  attempts  have  been  made  to  reduce  Chaucer's 
writings  to  modern  English,  in  order  to  introduce  him  to 
popular  favor;  but  these  friendly  efforts  have  failed  of 
gaining  appreciation  for  him.  To  be  thoroughly  enjoyed,  his 
writings  must  be  read  in  their  original  diction.  Distin- 
guished poets  have  tried  their  skill  in  interpreting  him,  but 
with  indifferent  success.  Wordsworth  has  adhered  with 
tolerable  fidelity  to  the  language,  and  consequently  to  the 
spirit,  of  the  original.  His  Cuckoo  and  Nightingale,  Prio- 
ress's Tale,  and  Troilus  and  Cresida,  retain  much  of  Chau- 
cer; but  the  less  sympathetic  minds  of  Dryden  and  Pope,  in 
attempting  to  improve  his  expression,  have  impaired  his 
sentiment. 

*  The  following  metrical  division  of  the  first  twelve  verses  of  The  Prologue 
gives  illustration  of  these  peculiarities  of  accent  and  pronunciation : 

"  Whan  that  I  April  |  le  with  |  his  schow  |  res  swoote, 
The  drought  |  of  Marche  |  hath  per  |  ced  to  |  the  roote, 
And  ba  |  thud  eve  |  ry  veyne  |  in  suich  |  licour 
Of  which  |  vertue  |  engen  |  dred  is  |  the  flour ; 
Whan  Ze  |  phyrus  |  eek  with  |  his  swe  |  te  breeth 
Enspi  |  rud  hath  |  in  eve  |  ry  holte  |  and  heeth 
The  ten  |  dre  crop  [  pes  and  |  the  yon  |  ge  sonue 
Hath  in  |  the  Ram  |  his  hal  |  fe  cours  |  i-ronce. 
And  sma  j  le  fow  |  les  ma  |  ken  me  |  lodie 
That  file  |  pen  al  |  the  night  |  with  o  |  pen  yhe, 
So  prik  |  eth  heen  |  nature  |  in  here  |  corages : — 
Thanne  Ion  |  gen  folk  |  to  gon  |  on  pil  I  grimages,"  &c. 

In  these  verses  the  French  accent  must  be  given  to  the  words  licmtr,  vertue,  na- 
ture, corages,  in  order  to  meet  the  requirements  of  the  rhythm.  When  Chaucer 
u*ed  them  they  had  not  become  Anglicized  in  pronunciation.  Aprille,  ewete,  yonge, 
/uilfe,  smale,  have  the  final  e  pronounced  as  a  separate  syllable,  for  the  words  suc- 
ceeding them  do  not  begin  with  vowels  nor  with  the  letter  h ;  but  in  Marche,  veyne, 
holte,  nature,  the  final  e  is  silent. 

NOTE. — The  student  will  find  special  pleasure  in  studying  the  annotations  to  the 
P)-oloffua  and  the  Knight's  Tale  in  Profoesor  Carpenter's  Literature  of  the  XTVth 
Century,  James  Russell  Lowell's  essay  on  Chaucer,  and  an  essay  of  the  Westminster 
Review,  published  in  July,  1866. 


CHAPTER     V  . 

THE  CONTEMPORARIES  OF  CHAUCER. 

"O  ARE  intellectual  power  is  never  monopolized  by  one  man  of 
*- *  a  generation ;  it  is  held  and  displayed  by  a  group  of  men. 
In  literature  a  "  bright  particular  star  "  does  not  shine  forth  unat- 
tended. Other  stars  accompany  it,  and  shed  a  steady,  though  less 
brilliant,  lustre  over  the  literary  firmament.  Throughout  the 
epochs  of  English  as  well  as  of  classical  literature,  we  find  the 
great  names  grouped  into  distinct  constellations  around  stars  whose 
surpassing  radiance,  by  attracting  the  gaze  exclusively  to  them- 
selves, often  makes  us  insensible  to  the  real  splendor  of  their 
humble  companions. 

No  writings — not  even  those  of  Chaucer  himself — so  faithfully 
reflect  the  popular  feeling  during  the  great  social  and  religious 
movement  of  the  fourteenth  century,  as  that  very  remarkable  series 
of  poems  which  appeared  under  the  name  of  Piers  Ploughman. 

(11.)  The  deep-seated  discontent  of  the  Commons  with  the 
1362.]  course  of  affairs  in  Church  and  State  found  a  voice  in  these 
1385.]  works.  They  are  three  in  number, — the  Vision,  the  Creed, 
1399.]  and  the  Complaint  of  Piers  Ploughman.  They  bear  the 

closest  resemblance  to  one  another  in  form  and  spirit,  as 
well  as  in  style  of  execution,  and  were  all  written  within  the  same 
half  century.  The  Fmon,  the  longest  of  the  three,  was  the  first  in 
merit  and  in  date,  and  was  the  model  for  the  others.  Allusions  to 
the  treaty  of  Bretigny,  made  in  1360,  and  to  the  great  tempest  of 
1362,  seem  to  fix  the  latter  year,  or  thereabouts,  as  the  time  of  its 
composition ;  and  tradition  assigns  its  authorship  to  WILLIAM  * 
LANGLANDE,  who  is  otherwise  unknown.  Two  facts  are  clear  from 

*  The  author  of  this  work  is  referred  to  as  Robert,  as  William,  and  sometimes  aa 
John  Langlande.  He  calls  himself  "  William  " 


44  P  I  E  E  8     P  L  0  U  G  II  M  A  X  . 

the  work  itself — that  the  writer  was  a  Churchman,  and  that  he 
sympathized  heartily  with  the  awakening  spirit  of  the  laboring 
classes.  In  this  work  Piers  Ploughman  (or  Peter  the  Ploughman) 
is  a  purely  allegorical  personage.  The  Latin  title  more  exactly 
conveys  the  nature  of  the  Vision;  it  is  Visio  Willelmi  de  Pietro 
Ploughman — a  vision  seen  by  the  author,  who  is  here  called  Wil- 
liam, concerning  Peter,  a  ploughman,  who  is  the  personification  of 
the  peasantry  of  England.  The  dreamer,  exhausted  by  his  long 
wanderings,  goes  to  sleep  on  the  Malvern  Hills,  and  soon  becomes 
aware  of  a  goodly  company  gathered  before  him  in  a  field : 

"  A  fair  fecld  ful  of  folk 
Fond  I  there  bitwene, 
Of  alle  mauere  of  men, 
The  meene  and  the  riche, 
Werchyuge  and  wandrynge." 

He  is  somewhat  puzzled  at  first  to  understand  what  all  this  may 
mean,  when  a  "  lovely  lady,"  descending  from  a  castle,  announces 
hersjelf  as  Holy  Church,  expounds  to  him  the  meaning  of  the  scene 
that  lies  before  him.  and  after  leaving  the  key  of  the  mystery  with 
him,  departs.  The  poet  describes  the  various  incidents  that  took 
place  in  tliis  typical  assembly,  each  of  which  shadows  forth  in 
simple  allegory  some  move  in  the  great  game  played  by  king, 
ecclesiastic,  and  noble.  The  work  contains  nearly  fifteen  thousand 
versss,  arranged  in  twenty  sections,  so  little  connected  with  one 
another  as  to  appear  almost  separate  poems.  Its  prevalent  tone  ia 
one  of  spirited  satire,  aimed  against  abuses  and  vices  in  general,  but 
specially  against  the  corruptions  of  the  Church. 

The  Creed  of  Piers  Ploughman  is  supposed  to  have  been  written 
twenty- three  years  later  than  the  Vision.  Though  an  imitation  of 
the  earlier  work,  it  differs  from  it  in  many  important  respects.  In 
it  Piers  Ploughman  is  no  longer  an  allegorical  character,  but  a  real 
son  of  the  soil.  The  author,  an  ardent  disciple  of  Wycliffe,  attacks 
the  doctrines  as  well  as  the  discipline  of  the  Church,  and  refrains 
from  political  satire.  The  Complaint  of  Piers  Ploughman  is  a  mere 
fragment. 

These  three  works  are  without  regularity  in  the  length  of  the 
lines,  and  without  rhyme.  They  attempt  to  revive  the  use  of 
alliteration,  which  was  a  distinctive  feature  of  poetry  in  England 
previous  to  the  introduction  of  rhymes  by  the  Normans.  This 


JOHX     GOWER.  45 

alliteration  consists  in  such  an  arrangement  and  selection  of  the 
words,  that  at  least  two  of  the  most  important  words  in  the  first 
line  of  a  couplet,  and  at  least  one  word  in  the  second  line,  begin 
with  the  same  letter.  The  opening  verses  of  the  Vision  are  given 
in  illustration : 

"  In  a  corner  seson 
Whan  «ofte  was  the  ,tonne, 
I  «Aoop  *  me  into  s/troudea.t 
As  I  a  sheep  $  weere. 

"  In  Mbite  as  an  ^eremite, 
UnAoly  of  workes, 
JFente  wide  iu  thirf  world 
TTondres  to  here." 

The  quaintness  of  this  metrical  device  and  the  character  of  the 
allegory  indicate  that  the  author  was  attempting  to  gain  whatever 
advantage  there  might  be  in  a  return  to  the  ancient  English  style 
of  poetry.  These  poems  attained  great  popularity  when  they  were 
first  printed— in  1550 — and  they  were  effective  in  advancing  the 

principles  of  the  Reformation. 

B.  1325?]  But  the  name  most  closely  linked  with  Chaucer's  is 

D.  1408?]  that  of  John  Gower.  During  the  greater  part  of  their 
lives  there  was  an  intimate  friendship  between  these 
two  men.  In  their  writings  they  gave  each  other  fond  praises. 
Chaucer  dedicated  Troilus  and  Creseide  to  "Moral  Gower;"  and 
the  first  edition  of  the  Confessio  Amantis  (12)  compliments  Chaucer 
highly. 

Gower's  life  was  not  so  public,  nor  so  full  of  vicissitudes,  as  hia 
friend's.  He  was  a  man  of  wealth,  and  passed  his  years  quietly  in 
literary  work.  He  seems  to  have  enjoyed  a  dignified  self-satis- 
faction in  his  compositions.  His  learning  was  extensive,  and  ho 
Was  somewhat  pedantic  in  its  display.  As  the  French  was  still  the 
language  of  educated  people  in  England,  he  used  the  alien  tongue 
in  the  Speculum  Meditantis,  the  first  of  his  three  principal  poems. 
In  the  second  of  the  three,  when  he  undertook  to  describe  the 
diseased  condition  of  English  society,  he  did  not  adopt  his  native 
speech,  but,  in  the  Vox  Clamanlis,  gave  utterance  to  his  feelings 
in  Latin  verse.  When  Chaucer  had  shown  the  capabilities  of 
English,  Gower,  in  his  blind  old  age,  wrote  the  Confessio  Amantii 

*  Shaped.  t  Clothes.  *  Shepherd. 


46  J 0 II  X     G  0  W  E  R  . 

in  that  tongue.  This  work,  though  not  his  ablest,  is  by  far  the 
most  interesting  to  us.  It  was  undertaken  at  the  request  of  Richard 
II.,  to  whom,  the  poet  says, 

"Belongeth  my  legeannce, 
With  all  mine  heartes  obeisaunce." 

This  first  edition  contains  the  celebrated  passage  in  which  Venus 
represents  Chaucer  as  her  disciple  and  poet,  and  expresses  a  wish 
that  in  his  "  later  age  "  he  shall  "  sctte  an  end  to  all  his  werke  by 
wilting  the  Testament  of  Love."  A  second  edition  differs  from  the 
first  merely  in  the  omission  of  this  compliment,  and  in  the  intro- 
duction of  a  new  prologue,  which  ignores  the  memory  of  Richard, 
and  dedicates  the  work  with  "  entire  affection  "  to  Henry  IV. 

The  Confessio  Amantis  is  a  poem  consisting  of  eight  books,  in 
addition  to  the  Prologue ;  one  on  each  of  the  seven  deadly  sins, 
and  another  on  the  subject  of  philosophy  generally.  It  is  a  collec- 
tion of  stories,  strung  together  on  a  plan  much  inferior  to  Chaucer's. 
Instead  of  a  number  of  characters,  we  have  but  two,  Lover  and 
Genius.  The  former,  by  direction  of  Venus,  confesses  his  sins  to 
the  latter.  Genius,  the  goddess's  own  clerk,  listens  to  the  penitent, 
and  then,  before  shriving  him,  illustrates  the  enormity  of  his 
offences  by  an  immense  number  of  apposite  stories.  These  are 
taken  from  the  Bible,  Ovid,  the  Gesta  Romanorum  (the  oldest 
collection  of  tales  extant),  Godfrey  of  Viterbo,  French  fabliaux, 
and  other  sources,  and  illustrate  the  varied  and  extensive  reading 
of  the  author.  This  poem  has  a  certain  charm  for  congenial 
minds ;  but  its  excellencies,  such  as  they  are,  are  balanced  by  many 
defects.  It  is  tedious,  overlaid  with  pedantry  to  a  wearisome 
extent,  and  utterly  without  Chaucer's  humor,  passion,  and  love  of 
nature.  The  author,  while  deploring  the  state  of  society  in  his 
time,  and  the  offences  of  men  in  high  place,  is  yet  a  stout  supporter 
of  the  old  order  of  things.  His  popularity  with  the  cultivated 
classes  continued  for  many  generations.  James  of  Scotland,  in  the 
fifteenth  century,  describes  him  and  Chaucer  as 

"  Superlative  as  poetis  laureate, 
Iii  moralitce  and  eloquence  ornate  ; " 

and  Shakespeare,  in  the  sixteenth  century,  not  only  borrows  from 
him  the  materials  of  "  Pericles,"  but  also  brings  him  upon  the  stage 
as  chorus  to  that  play. 


PKOSE     IN     THE     TIME     OF     CHAUCER.  4? 


PROSE  LITERATURE  IN  THE  TIME  OF  CHAUCER. 

The  most  meritorious  writer  of  English  prose  in  Chaucer's  time 
was  Chaucer  himself;  but  his  rare  power  in  this  department  has 
been  eclipsed  by  his  transcendent  genius  as  a  poet.  Of  those 
writers  whose  fame  depends  on  prose  works  alone,  the  chief  are 
Mandeville  and  Wycliffe.  Sir  John  Mandeville  (1300-1372), 
who  is  sometimes  erroneously  called  the  father  of  English  prose, 
published  his  well-known  volume  of  travels  in  1356.  Mr.  Hallam 
calls  this  our  earliest  English  book.  It  professes  to  be  an  authen- 
tic account  of  what  the  author  saw  on  his  travels  through  the  most 
distant  countries  of  the  East,  but  is,  in  reality,  a  collection  of 
marvelous  tales  worthy  only  of  being  classed  with  the  adventures 
of  Baron  Munchausen.  Whatever  truth  it  may  contain  is  mingled 
with  so  much  falsehood,  that  the  whole  narrative  is  worthless.  The 
style,  however,  is  straightforward  and  unadorned,  and  the  composi- 
tion may  still  be  read  with  but  little  difficulty.  The  work  was 
exceedingly  popular  in  its  time,  for  it  gave  accounts  of  strange 
peoples  and  countries  about  which  Englishmen  had  never  heard. 

In  his  Prologue,  Mandeville  recognizes  the  confusion  of  the 
language  of  literature,  and  says  that  he  has  "put  this  boke  out  of 
Latyn  into  Frensche,  and  translated  it  again  into  Englyssche,  that 
every  man  of  my  natioft  may  understand  it." 

No  name  of  the  time  will  be  longer  remembered  than  that  of 
JOHN  WYCLIFFE,  who  first  gave  a  complete  copy  of  the  Scriptures 
to  the  English  people  in  the  English  tongue.  This  remarkable 
man,  of  almost  as  great  importance  in  the  literary  as  in 
B.  1324.]  the  political  history  of  his  nation,  studied  at  Oxford, 
D,  1384.]  and  rose  to  considerable  academical  and  ecclesiastical 
preferments.  His  life  was  marked  by  many  vicissitudes. 
After  having  been  alternately  supported  and  abandoned  by  men  of 
great  influence,  he  closed  his  life  peacefully  at  his  Lutterworth  par- 
sonage. It  was  here,  after  his  enemies  had  driven  him  from  his 
Chair  at  Oxford,  that  he  commenced  his  great  translation,  which  is 
said  to  have  been  finished  about  the  year  1380.*  The  influence 

*  A  priest  named  Hereford  assisted  Wycliffe,  and  is  believed  to  have  been  the 
translator  of  the  work  as  far  as  Baruch,  in  the  Apocrypha.  The  remainder  of  the 
work  is  attributed  to  Wycliffe. 


48  P  E  0  S  E     IX     THE     TIME     OF     CHAUCER. 

exerted  by  this  work  upon  our  language  cannot  be  overrated. 
Translated,  as  it  was,  from  the  Latin  Vulgate,  it  makes  the  Latin 
the  principal  source  of  our  theological  vocabulary. 

"NVycliffe  was  the  first  eminent  scholar  who  used  the  English 
tongue  in  attacking  the  ecclesiastical  system.  He  was  the  fore- 
runner of  the  Reformation.  His  sermons  and  polemical  writinga 
must  be  studied  by  those  who  would  form  a  just  notion  of  the 
highest  intellectual  power  exerted  at  that  time.  He  struck  the 
first  mighty  blow  against  Roman  Catholic  supremacy  in  England. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

FROM  CHAUCER  TO  SPENSER. 

y/' 

Otx. 

rpHE   first  great   manifestation   of  English   intellectual   power 

-  terminated  with  the  death  of  Chaucer.  A  period  of  decay 
followed,  in  which  there  was  no  display  of  literary  genius.  For 
more  than  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  not  a  man  of  eminent  intellect 
appeared.  But  the  invention  of  printing  and  the  revival  of  learn- 
ing remind  us  that,  though  singularly  deficient  in  great  men,  the 
time  was  by  no  means  barren  in  results.  The  spiritual  activities  of 
the  nation  were  gathering  themselves  for  another  marvelous  out- 
burst. 

Three  disciples  of  Chaucer,  Occleve,  Lydgate,  and  James  I. 
OF  SCOTLAND,  have  made  their  names  worthy  of  mention  as  writers 
of  verse  in  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

In  the  finest  passage  of  his  best  attempt  at  poetical  composition, 
Occleve  bewails  the  death  of  his  master,  Chaucer,*  and,  but  for  the 
simple  earnestness  of  that  lament,  there  would  be.  nothing  in  his 
literary  work  to  command  our  esteem. 

John  Lydgate's  writings  were  in  high  repute  in  his  own  century. 
He  furnished  poetical  compositions  for  enteHt^inmeuts 
B.  1374.]  given  by  companies  of  merchants  for  MaySday  and 
D.  1460?]  Christmas  festivals,  for  the  pageants  provided  by  the 
corporation  of  the  City  of  London,  and  for  the  masks 

*  But  wel  away  !  so  is  mine  hcrte  wo 
That  the  honor  of  English  tongue  is  dede, 
Of  which  I  wont  was  have  counsel  and  r6de ! 

O  mayster  tlcre  and  fadir  reverent, 

My  mayster  Chaucer,  floure  of  eloquence, 

Mirrour  of  fructuous  endendement, 

O  universal  fadir  in  science, 

Alas  that  thon  thine  excellent  prudence 

In  thy  bed  mortel  mighteste  not  bequethe  ! 

What  eyled  Death  ?    Alas  !  why  would  he  sle  the  ? 


50  JAMES     I.    OF     SCOTLAND. 

before  the  king.  Two  hundred  and  fifty-one  of  these  productions 
attributed  to  the  prolific  versifier,  indicate  in  what  esteem  he  was 
held  by  his  own  generation.  For  nearly  fifty  years  this  monk  was 
the  most  popular  English  poet.  His  best  known  productions  are 
the  Story  of  Thebes,  the  Destruction  of  Troy,  and  the  Fall  of  Princes. 
The  first,  a  translation  from  Statius,  a  Latin  poet  of  the  first  century, 
is  given  as  an  additional  Canterbury  Tale,  told  by  Lydgatc,  who 
represents  himself  as  having  met  Chaucer's  pilgrims  at  an  inn  in 
Canterbury,  and  as  having  been  allowed  to  return  to  Londqn  in 
their  company.  The  Fall  of  Princes  is  a  translation  from  Boccaccio, 
and  contains  the  famousreference  to  his  "  maister  Chaucer,"  '•  the 
lode-sterre  of  our  language."  The  Destruction,  of  Troy,  a  translation 
from  a  Latin  prose  romance,  is  a  poem  of  interest,  as  it  portrays 
many  features  of  the  social  life  of  the  fifteenth  century. 

But  the  most  brilliant  poet  of  the  fifteenth  century  is  James  I. 
of  Scotland.  In  1405,  when  but  eleven  years  old,  he  was  captured 
on  his  way  from  Scotland  to  France,  and  was  taken  to  the  English 
court.  Henry  IV.  and  his  successors  detained  him  as  a  prisoner 
for  nineteen  years.  Happy  results  for  himself  and  for  his  nation 
followed  from  this  captivity.  The  severe  adversities  developed  those 
sterling  qualities  of  character  which  made  him  the  most  eminent 
king  of  the  Stuart  line ;  and  the  loneliness  of  his  earlier  years 
prompted  him  to  seek  and  gain  that  literary  culture  which  has 
made  his  name  famous  in  the  world  of  letters.  In  the  last  year  of 
his  imprisonment  he  wrote  his  best  work,  the  Kings  Quair  (a  quire, 
or  book)  (18),  a  poetical  record  of  incidents  in  his  life,  and  espe- 
cially of  his  winning  his  queen,  Jane  Beaufort,  granddaughter  of 
John  of  Gaunt.  From  the  window  of  his  prison  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of 

"  The  fairest  or  the  freschest  young  floure," 

as  she  walked  with  her  attendants  "under  the  Toure."  The  poem 
contains  nearly  fourteen  hundred  lines,  giving  his  sad  reflections  in 
the  prison-house,  and  describing  the  sudden  appearance  of  the 
beautiful  vision  of  peerless  loveliness,  his  hopes  and  despairs,  and 
the  happy  ending  of  his  courtship.  No  poem  of  equal  merit  was 
produced  in  the  long  interval  between  Chaucer  and  Spenser.  It  is 
distinguished  by  tenderness  of  expression,  a  manly  delicacy  of  feel- 
ing, and  a  genuine  poetic  sensibility. 


WILLIAM     CAXTOX.  51 

Besides  these  three,  not  a  respectable  versifier  appeared  in 
jEngland  during  the  fifteenth  century ;  and  the^e  three  are  professed 
disoiples  of  Chaucer.  His  influence  over  them  is  shown  in  the  very 
stanza  in  which  they  wrote. 

Few  English  names  of  this  century  will  live  as  long 
B.  1412.]  as  that  of  William  Caxton.  To  him  England  owes 
D.  1491.]  her  early  participation  in  the  benefits  arising  from  the 
art  of  printing — the  greatest  invention  of  modern 
times.  This  invention,  which  was  nothing  more  than  the  use  of 
movable  types  in  place  of  the  old  engraved  wooden  blocks,  is  now 
generally  believed  to  have  been  made  by  John  Gutenberg,  of 
Mentz.  He  had  conceived  the  plan  about  1438,  but  on  account  of 
poverty  was  unable  to  put  it  into  execution  until  twelve  years 
afterwards,  when  he  met  with  John  Fust,  a  wealthy  merchant,  by 
whose  assistance  he  brought  out  in  1455  the  first  printed  book,  the 
Latin  Bible  now  known  as  the  Mazarin.  The  art  was  introduced 
into  England  by  Caxton.  His  printing-press  was  set  up  at  West- 
minster, and  its  first  work,  the  Game  of  the  Chesse,  appeared  in 
1474.  From  that  time  until  his  death  in  1491,  Caxton  labored 
assiduously  at  his  vocation,  giving  to  the  world  sixty-four  books. 
The  majority  of  his  publications  were  in  English,  consisting  partly 
of  translations  and  partly  of  original  works.  Many  of  these  trans- 
lations are  from  the  printer's  own  pen.  To  other  books  he  added 
prefaces  of  his  own  composition,  so  that  he  is  fairly  entitled  to  a 
place,  though  not  a  very  high  one,  among  English  authors  (26). 

THE  P ASTON  LETTERS,  the  earliest  collection  of  the  kind  in  the 
language,  form  a  regular  series,  extending  from  before  1440  until 
1505,  and  are  so  numerous  that  they  filled  five  volumes  on  thdir 
first  publication.  By  far  the  greatest  number  are  written  cither 
by  or  to  members  of  the  Paston  family.  The  collection  is  of  the 
greatest  historical  importance,  not  only  from  the  light  it  throws 
upon  some  of  the  dark  passages  of  English  history,  but  also  from 
the  valuable  illustrations  it  supplies  of  the  domestic  manners  and 
modes  of  thought  and  action  that  prevailed  in  the  fifteenth  century. 
The  inner  life  of  the  period  is  laid  open  before  us  ;  its  character 
and  spirit  are  revealed  to  us  through  the  very  thoughts  and  words 
of  men  then  living. 

The  early  part  of  the  sixteenth  century  was  marked  by  soni*? 


52  JOHNSKELTOX. 

improvements  in  our  literature,  although  it  produced  no  poet  of 
special  merit.  The  Pastiyie  of  Pleasure,  by  STEPHEN  HA  WES,  a 
favorite  of  Henry  VII.,  is  a  dull  allegorical  poem  ;  and  ALEXANDEB 
BARCLAY'S  Ship  of  Fools  is  merely  a  translation  of  the  once  cele- 
brated satire  of  Sebastian  Brandt.  These  works,  though  of  little 
value  in  themselves,  attest  the  marked  progress  that  versification 
was  making  towards  grace  and  harmony ;  and  in  this  respect  they 
indicate  an  approach  to  the  manner  of  Spenser  and  Shakespeare. 

The  most  prolific  versifier  of  this  period  was  John  Skelton, 
(1460-1529),  who  is  generally  taken  to  typify  the  spirit  of  revolt 
then  prevalent  against  ecclesiastical  arrogance  and  authority, 
especially  as  represented  by  the  great  churchman,  Cardinal  Wolsey 
(21).  Skelton  was  himself  a  member  of  the  clerical  profession. 
We  have  the  testimony  of  Erasmus,  then  a  resident  in  England,  to 
his  eminence  as  a  scholar  and  man  of  letters.  His  bitter  tongue, 
however,  is  said  to  have  drawn  down  upon  him  the  Cardinal's 
wrath,  from  which  he  was  obliged  to  take  refuge  in  the  Sanctuary 
at  Westminster,  where  he  died  in  1529.  His  Latin  poems  evince 
much  classical  elegance.  His  serious  efforts  in  English  are  exceed- 
ingly heavy  and  tedious;  but  his  satiric  writings,  coarse  and 
vulgar  as  they  are,  show  BO  much  force  and  spirit  that  they 
still  retain  some  degree  of  popularity.  The  peculiar  doggerel 
measure  in  which  his  satiric  works  are  composed,  and  his  use  of 
the  familiar  speech  of  the  people,  have  attracted  to  him  a  degree 
of  attention  to  which  his  intrinsic  merits  by  no  means  entitle  him. 
He  has  perfectly  described  and  exemplified  the  character  of  hia 
"  breatheless  rhymes  "  in  the  following  passage : 

"  For  though  my  rime  be  ragged, 
Tattered  and  jag-ged. 
Rudely  raine-beaten, 
Rusty  and  mooth-eaten, 
If  ye  take  wel  therewith, 
It  hath  in  it  some  pith." 

His  principal  attacks  upon  Wolsey  are  found  in  the  Booke  of  Colin 
Clout,  Why  come  ye  not  to  Court  f  and  the  Bouge  of  Court  (i.  e., 
Bouche  a  Court,  diet  allowed  at  court).  Notwithstanding  the 
admiration  that  is  often  expressed  for  this  writer,  his  satirical  com- 
positions hardly  rise  above  the  dignity  of  lampoons.  "  His  learn- 
ing." in  the  opinion  cf  Mr.  Marsh,  ''certainly  did  little  for  the 


WTATT     AND     SURREY.  63 

improvement  of  his  English  style ;  and  we  may  say  of  his-  diction 
in  general,  that  all  that  is  not  vulgar  is  pedantic."  Throughout 
his  writings  he  seems  to  delight  in  alluding  to  the  laurel,  or  degree 
in  verse,  conferred  upon  him  at  Oxford. 

During  the  latter  part  of  the  fifteenth  and  the  first  years  of  the 
eixteenth  century,  Blind  Harry,  Robert  Henryson,  Gawin  Douglas, 
and  William  Dunbar,*  tbe  "  early  Scotch  poets,"  flourished.  It  is 
to  Scotland  and  to  these  men  that  we  look  for  the  best  English 
poetry  during  the  time  when  the  poets  of  England  were  in  a  state 
of  torpor.  They  were  the  successors  of  James  I.  of  Scotland,  and 
the  only  men  in  the  two  generations  before  Surrey,  whose  song  is 
worthy  of  mention.  , 

The  poems  of  Wyatt  and  Surrey,  though  inferior  to  Skelton's 
works  in  force  and  vivacity,  are  superior  in  grace  and  elegance. 
They  give  the  earliest  indications  of  the  dawn  of  the  brightest  day 
that  English  literature  had  seen.  Although  unequal  in  merit,  they 
possess  so  much  in  common,  there  is  such  marked  similarity  in  their 
manner,  that  their  names  are  closely  associated.!  The  higher  place 
is  invariably  assigned  to  the  younger,  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of 
Surrey  (1517-1547),  whose  early,  unmerited  death  on  the  scaffold 
in  1547,  has  deepened  the  romantic  interest  that  surrounds  his 
name  (23,  24).  His  contributions  to  poetry  are  not  very  extensive, 
but  are  of  considerable  importance,  as  well  from  their  excellence 
as  from  the  new  metrical  form  and  style  in  which  many  of  them  are 
written.  It.  is  to  Surrey  that  we  owe  two  of  the  greatest  literary 
innovations — the  introduction  of  the  sonnet,  and  the  use  of  blank 
verse — and  he  was  the  first  to  write  in  that  involved  style,  which 
so  strikingly  distinguishes  the  language  of  Shakespeare  from  that 

*  Mr.  Craik  pays  that  "  this  admirable  master,  alike  of  serious  and  of  comic  song, 
may  justly  be  styledjhe  Chaucer  of  Scotland,  whether  we  look  to  the  wide  range  o» 
his  genius,  or  to  his  eminence  in  every  style  over  all  the  poets  of  hi»  country  who 
preceded  and  all  who  for  ages  came  after  him.  Burns  is  certainly  the  only  name 
among  the  Scottish  poets  that  can  yet  be  placed  on  the  same  line  with  that  of  Dun- 
bar  ;  and  even  the  inspired  ploughman,  though  the  equal  of  Dunbar  in  comic  power 
and  his  superior  in  depth  of  passion,  is  not  to  be  compared  with  the  older  poet 
either  in  strength  or  in  general  fertility  of  imagination." 

t  "  Henry,  Earl  of  Surrey,  and  Sir  Thomas  Wyat,  between  whom  I  finde  very 
little  difference,  I  repute  them  for  the  two  chief  lanternes  of  light  to  all  others  that 
have  since  employed  their  pennes  upon  English  Poesie;  their  conceits  were  loftie, 
their  stiles  stately,  their  conveyance  cleanly,  their  termes  proper,  their  metros 
eweete  and  well  proportioned."— P<<ttenham,  1539. 


54  WYATT     A  X  D     SURREY. 

of  Chaucer.  A  version  of  the  second  and  fourth  books  of  the 
^Eneid,  in  what  Milton  called  "English  heroic  verse  without 
rhyme ; "  numerous  sonnets  on  many  subjects,  chiefly  amatory ; 
a  satire  on  the  citizens  of  London,  together  with  paraphrases  of 
Ecclesiastes  and  some  of  the  Psalms,  constitute  the  main  portion 
of  his  writings.  The  fanciful  theories  of  some  later  editors 
have  attached  an  undue  significance  to  his  connection  with 
the  fair  Geraldine,  in  whose  honor  many  of  his  best  sonnets  were 

^ten. 

Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  (1503-1542),  though  fourteen  years  older 
than  his  friend,  is  generally  regarded  as  his  poetical  disciple ;  but 
he  is  undoubtedly  a  ptoet  of  a  much  lower  type  (22).  He,  too,  com- 
posed many  songs  and  sonnets  on  the  one  inexhaustible  topic — lova 
His  satires  and  his  metrical  versions  of  the  Penitential  Psalms  sup- 
ply an  additional  point  of  resemblance  between  himself  and  Surrey. 
In  both,  the  highly  beneficent  influences  of  an  acquaintance  with 
Italian  literature  are  manifest ;  influences  which  affected  the  entire 
structure  and  spirit  of  English  poetry  for  more  than  a  century, 
imparting  to  it  a  smoothness  and  melody  unknown  before,  without 
impairing  in  the  slightest  degree  its  native  strength  and  manliness 
of  tone.  Their  collected  works  were  first  published  ten  years  after 
Surrey's  death. 

The  stirring  old  English  Ballads,  though  composed  by  unknown 
minstrels,  must  not  be  overlooked.  Their  language  is  simple,  their 
verse  rude,  their  thoughts  rugged — they  are  full  of  sympathy  for 
tlie  outlaw,  yet  they  have  a  charm  for  those  who  delight  in  the 
expressions  of  simple-hearted  human  nature.  They  were  com- 
posed, nearly  all  of  them,  in  this  comparatively  barren  period  of 
English  literature,  between  the  time  of  Chaucer  and  the  time  of 
Spenser.  Anarchy  in  the  state,  tyranny,  and  the  constant  warfare 
waged  along  the  Scottish  border,  were  among  the  causes  which 
stirred  the  rude  poets  to  recital  of  their  loves  and  hatreds.  Tradi- 
tion saved  these  compositions  for  us.  They  were  not  gathered 
into  a  volume  until  the  latter  part  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
when  Bishop  Percy  brought  them  together,  thinking  that  they 
might  furnish  material  for  missing  chapters  in  the  history  of  our 
language.  As  we  read  his  Reliqnes  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  the 
incantation  of  the  old  minstrels  places  us  under  a  spell,  and,  for 
the  time,  makes  us  forgetful  of  the  fascination  of  the  modern  poets. 


OLD     ENGLISH     BALLADS.  55 

We  are  transported  back  to  the  days  of  rude  life  in  England.  We 
sup,  and  watch,  and  fight,  and  love  with  the  brave,  lawless  yeomen. 
Strive  as  they  may,  our  poets  of  a  nobler  civilization  cannot  pro- 
duce companion-pieces  to  the  Ancient  Ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  or 
to  Adam  Bell*  Clym  of  the  Clougli,  and  William  of  Cloudesley. 
"  Young  Lochinvar "  and  '•  Sheridan's  Ride "  are  spirited,  but 
they  do  not  approach  the  old  ballads  in  graphic  terseness,  in 
poetic  simplicity,  in  fiery  fervor,  in  tenderness  of  pathos.  The 
reproduction  of  such  poetry  is  prevented  by  the  civilization  of 
this  age.  Law,  not  lawlessness,  is  honored  now.  Personal  prowess, 
reckless  daring,  are  dangerous  to  society  in  this  day,  they  gave 
protection  to  the  little  bands  of  the  English  wood  ;  they  received  the 
grateful  applause  of  men  who  lived  amid  the  perils  of  the  Scottish 
Border.  It  was  the  hardihood  of  the  age  that  produced  the  old 
ballads.  Many  of  them  appear  in  two  forms:  the  early  genuine 
verses  in  their  original  rudeness,  and  a  later  edition,  in  which  some 
versifier  has  endeavored  to  smooth  and  polish  their  crudities. 
These  attempts  at  improvement  invariably  dissipate  the  energy  of 
the  original.  To  appreciate  the  spirit  of  these  poetns,  they  should 
be  read  in  the  earlier  forms.  For.  example,  the  familiar  Ballad  of 
Chevy  Chase  is  an  attempt  at  improving  an  old  ballad ;  yet  the  old 
Bong  (23)  is  superior  in  vigor,  in  vivacity,  and  is  far  more  inspiring 
to  the  fancy.  A  few  stanzas  may  illustrate  its  energy  : 


I  The  Perse"  owt*  of  Northombarlande,t 
And  a  yowe  to  God  rnayd  he, 

That  he  wolde  hunte  in  the  mountayna 
Off  chyviat  within  £  dayes  thre, 
In  the  mauger  §  of  doughti  Doglas, 
And  all  that  ever  with  him  be. 

II  The  fattiste  hartes  in  all  cheviat 

He  sayd  he  wold  kill  and  cary  them  away ; 
'Be  myfeth,1  sayd  the  doughti  Doglas  agayn, 
1 1  wyll  let !  that  hontyng  yf  that  I  may.' 

"  Then  the  Persd  owt  of  Banborowe  cam, 
With  him  a  myghtye  meany.T 
With  fifteen  huiulrith  archares  bold; 
The  wear  chosen  out  of  shyars  **  thrc." 


*  Came  out.     t  The  land  north  of  the  Humber.      i  During.     §  In  spite  of. 
I  Hinder.         ^  A  strong  company.  **  Shires. 


66  S  I  R     T  H  0  M  A  S    M  0  K  E . 

There  follows  a  description  of  the  foray,  beginning  on  a  Monday 
morning,  of  the  scattering  of  the  huntsmen,  of  the  gathering  and 
dressing  of  the  deer,  of  the  alert  watchers,  of  the  oncoming  of 
Douglas  and  his  men,  of  the  brave  parley  before  the  fight,  of  the 
onset,  of  the  bloody  death  of  the  two  leaders,  and  of  the  unyielding 
struggle  until  the  sun  went  down,  and  the  battle  not  yet  over.  The 
woe  of  bereaved  women  is  touchingly  depicted ;  and  then  the  poem 
closes  as  boldly  and  as  bluntly  as  it  began.  It  was  of  this  ballad 
that  Sir  Philip  Sidney  said,  "  I  never  heard  the  old  song  of  Percy 
and  Douglas,  that  I  found  not  niy  heart  more  moved  than  with  a 
trumpet." 

Interesting  as  these  old  English  ballads  are,  the  Scottish  are 
pronounced  superior  by  Hallam,  the  most  judicious  of  critics  ;  and 
it  is  generally  admitted  that  the  minstrelsy  of  the  border  counties 
of  the  two  kingdoms  has  greater  energy  than  that  of  the  southern 
provinces  p,f  England. 

v\s^ 

Although  the  prose  writers  in  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth 
century  are  few  in  number,  their  works  were  generally  excellent  of 
their  kind.  Sir  Thomas  More  stands  pre-eminent 
B.  1480.]  among  them.  He  was  a  man  of  profound  scholarship, 
D.  1535.]  of  earnest  piety,  and  of  irrepressible  good-humor. 
When  he  was  yet  in  his  youth  it  was  said  of  him, 
u  There  is  but  one  wit  in  England,  and  that  is  young  Thomas 
More."  Entering  the  profession  of  the  law,  he  quickly  gained  dis- 
tinction. The  progressive  scholars  of  the  day  applauded  him  when 
he  appeared,  against  desperate  opposition,  as  a  champion  for  the 
introduction  of  the  study  of  Greek  into  the  universities  of  England. 
The  eminent  Erasmus  was  his  devoted  and  admiring  friend.  He 
gained  one  position  after  another  as  a  servant  of  the  state,  until  he 
reached  the  bench  of  the  chancellor.  But  when  he  ventured  to 
thwart  the  purposes  of  Henry  VIII.  by  refusing  to  acknowledge 
the  validity  of  that  monarch's  marriage  to  Anne  Boleyn,  neither 
the  eminence  of  his  position  nor  his  former  intimacy  with  the  king 
could  save  him  from  a  cruel  death.  Disaster  did  not  disturb  his 
serene  good-humor.  Disgrace,  imprisonment,  and  threatening  dan- 
ger were  brightened  by  his  genial  wit ;  and  even  as  he  climbed  the 
scaffold  to  bow  beneath  the  headsman's  axe,  he  gayly  said,  "  I  pray 
you  see  me  safe  up  ;  and  for  my  coming  down  let  me  shift  for  myself." 


SIR     THOMAS     MORE.  5? 

Sir  Thomas  More's  fame  as  a  writer  rests  upon  two  works.  The 
one  most  remarkable,  on  account  of  its  literary  style,  is  his  Life  of 
Edward  F.,  a  work  pronounced  by  Mr.  Hallam  "the  first  example 
of  good  English  language — pure  and  perspicuous,  well  chosen, 
without  vulgarisms  or  pedantry."  But  his  best  known  work,  the 
Utopia,  is  written  in  Latin,  and  is  known  to  most  modern  readers 
through  Burnet's  translation.  It  is  a  romantic  description  of  the 
happy  state  of  a  republic  on  an  island,  where  the  laws  and  social 
and  political  usages  are  in  strict  accordance  with  philosophical  per- 
fection. Many  of  its  suggestions  are  of  a  most  enlightened  char- 
acter, and  far  in  advance  of  the  author's  time.  The  work  is  full  of 
fancy  and  invention.  Every  house  has  its  spacious  garden ;  every 
citizen  understands  agriculture,  and  is  expert  at  some  trade ;  six 
hours  of  work,  no  more  and  no  less,  is  allowed.  There  are  no 
taverns  in  that  happy  land;  and  change  of  fashions,  frivolity, 
cruelty,  and  wars  are  unknown.  Utopia,  the  name  of  the  republic, 
signifies  "No  land"  (W  ronoq).  More's  other  works  are  not 
numerous.  They  are  controversial ;  and  are  expressions  of  his 
ardent  attachment  to  the  Roman  Catholic  religion.  Tradition 
assigns  him  a  place  among  the  most  eminent  of  English  orators. 

Lord  Berners's  Chronicle  of  Froissart  should  be  mentioned 
among  the  English  prose  writings  of  this  century,  for  it  is  one 
of  the  best  translations  ever  made. 

The  development  of  historical  literature  is  by  successive  stages. 
Its  earliest  expression,  in  the  ancient  as  well  as  in  the  modern 
world,  is  legendary,  and  its  form  is  poetical.  The  legends  are 
succeeded  by  chronicles,  and  after  ages  of  civilization  the  chroni- 
cles furnish  the  historian  with  the  rude  materials  for  his  work. 
Thus,  in  the  development  of  our  historical  literature,  we  have 
fabulous  British  legends,  the  chronicles  of  the  monastic  and  the 
trouvere,  the  systematically  compiled  narrative,  and  the  philo- 
sophical treatise  of  the  modern  historian  In  the  pages  of  Robert 
Fabyan  and  of  Edward  Hall  we  find  the  first  attempts  made  by 
English  writers  for  a  systematic  compilation  of  past  events. 
Fabyan,  an  alderman  and  sheriff  of  London,  gathers  the  mythical, 
semi-mythical,  and  authentic  events  of  English  history,  and  reduces 
them  to  a  regular  narrative,  called  the  Concordance  of  Historyes. 
Hall,  a  judge  in  the  same  city,  under  the  title  of  the  Union  of  tlie 
Two  Nolle  and  Illustrate  Families  of  York  and  Lancastre,  gives  a 


58  WILLIAM     T  Y  X  D  A  L  E . 

history  of  England  under  these  two  royal  families,  and  down  to  the 
year  1582.  These  writings,  though  totally  devoid  of  any  pre- 
tentions  to  history  in  the  genuine  sense  of  the  word,  are  valuable, 
not  only  as  storehouses  of  facts  for  modern  narrators,  but  also  as 
monuments  of  the  language,  and  as  examples  of  the  popular  feel- 
ing of  the  time. 

The  Toxophilus  of  Roger  Ascham  (1515-1568),  published  iu 
1545,  was  written  to  revive  the  then  decaying  interest  in  the  use  of 
the  bow,  and  is  distinguished  by  quiet  dignity  of  style  and  manli- 
ness of  spirit.  It  is  composed  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue  between 
Philologus  and  Toxophilus.  Eighteen  years  afterwards,  when 
tutor  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  this  same  author  brought  out  his  more 
important  work,  The  Schoolmaster,  which  is  still  valuable  for  the 
principles  and  rules  of  teaching  expounded  therein.  For  a  learned 
man  to  write  a  scholarly  book  in  the  English  language,  at  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  a  startling  innovation,  and 
therefore  Ascham  presents  the  following  apology  in  the  preface  of 
his  work : 

"  As  for  the  Latin  or  Greek  tongue,  everything  is  so  excellently 
done  in  them  that  none  can  do  better ;  in  the  English  tongue,  con- 
trary, everything  in  a  manner  so  meanly,  both  for  the  matter  and 
handling,  that  no  man  can  do  worse.  *  *  *  *  He  that  will 
write  well  in  any  tongue  must  follow  the  counsel  of  Aristotle,  to 
speak  as  the  common  people  do,  to  think  as  wise  men  do,  as  so 
should  every  man  understand  him,  and  the  judgment  of  wise  men 
allow  him." 

More  than  a  century  had  passed  since  Wycliffe  made  his  trans- 
lation of  the  Bible.  Meanwhile  the  language  had  so  changed  that 
Wycliflfe's  version  was  intelligible  to  but  few  English  readers. 
There  was  great  demand  for  a  printed  Bible.  Englishmen  wished 
to  read  the  book  for  themselves.  The  nation  was  agitated  on 
religious  subjects,  and  was  on  the  verge  of  the  Refor- 
B.  1480.]  ination.  William  Tyndale,  burning  with  the  desire 
D.  1536.]  to  put  the  Word  of  God  within  the  reach  of  the  hum- 
blest of  his  countrymen,  set  himself  to  the  work  of 
translating  the  New  Testament  from  the  Greek.  After  many  dis- 
couragements his  work  was  accomplished,  and  the  first  edition 
was  printed — probably  at  Cologne — in  1525.  Its  publication 
was  hailed  with  delight.  Threats  and  severe  penalties  could  not 


WILLIAM     TYNDALE.  59 

preTent  men  from  selling  and  buying  it.  The  King  of  England 
frowned,  the  Church  pronounced  its  curses ;  but  all  in  vain,  for 
the  people  were  determined  to  possess  the  book.  Knowing  that 
persecution  and  death  would  stop  his  working  should  he  return  to 
his  own  country,  Tyndale  remained  on  the  Continent.  He  was 
diligently  translating  the  Old  Testament.  The  Five  Boolcs  of 
Moses  and  An  English  Version  of  tlie  Boole  of  Job  were  completed  by 
him.  At  last  he  was  treacherously  delivered  to  officers  who  were 
searching  for  him,  and,  after  eighteen  months  of  imprisonment,  he 
was  tried  at  the  Castle  of  Vilvoord,  near  Brussels,  was  convicted 
of  heresy,  was  strangled  and  burned  at  the  stake.  In  the  agony 
of  dying  he  gave  expression  to  the  faith  which  had  prompted  his 
earnest  efforts,  as  he  prayed,  "  O  Lord,  open  the  King  of  England's 
eyes ! "  All  critics  accord  praise  to  the  literary  excellence  of 
Tyndale's  work.  His  language  is  pure  and  simple.  His  style  is 
energetic.  He  has  done  more  than  any  other  to  establish  our 
idioms  and  our  diction.  All  English  translators  of  the  Bible  since 

his  day  have  imitated  him  closely.* 
1535.]  Miles  Coverdale,  Bishop  of  Exeter,  has  the  glory  of 

publishing  the  first  printed  copy  of  the  whole  Bible.     It 
lacks  the  simplicity  and  energy  of  Tyndale's  version. 

*  "  Tyudale's  translation  of  the  New  Testament  is  the  most  Important  philological 
monument  of  the  first  half  of  the  sixteenth  century,  perhaps  I  should  say  of  the 
whole  period  between  Chaucer  and  Shakespeare,  both  as  an  historical  relic,  and  as 
having  more  than  anything  else  contributed  to  shape  and  fix  the  sacred  dialect,  and 
establish  the  form  which  the  Bible  must  permanently  assume  in  an  English  dress.— 
Marsh's  Lectures  on  the  English  Language,  p.  113. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  NON-DRAMATIC  ELIZABETHAN  POETS. 

•'rpHE  ELIZABETHAN  AGE"  is  marked  by  features  which 
-*-  give  it  peculiar  distinction  in  the  history  of  the  literary 
world.  The  language  had  just  reached  its  fhorough  development. 
Thought  was  rejoicing  in  a  recent  and  sudden  emancipation.  The 
writers  were  men  of  originality  and  of  high  intellectual  culture, 
who  found  the  ancient  and  foreign  literatures  filled  with  materials 
and  imagery  which  had  not  yet  had  time  to  become  commonplace 
for  English  readers.  They  united  freshness  and  dignity  in  their 
poetry  and  in  their  prose.  The  literary  activity  begun  in  the  reign 
of  Elizabeth  was  carried  on  through  the  reign  of  James  I. 

But  the  progress  of  this  age  was  not  in  literature  alone.  There 
was  an  awakening  of  the  people  to  general  social  improvement. 
Life  was  recognized  as  worth  enjoying,  and  its  enjoyment  was 
found  in  a  new  way  of  living.  Comforts  were  invented  and  used.* 

*  Holinshed,  writing  at  the  beginning  of  Elizabeth's  reign,  says:  "There  are 
old  men  yet  dwelling  in  the  village  where  I  remain  which  have  noted  three  things 
to  be  marvellously  altered  in  England  within  their  sound  remembrance :  One  is  the 
multitudes  of  chimneys  lately  erected;  whereas,  in  their  young  days,  there  were 
not  above  two  or  three,  if  so  many,  in  the  most  nplandish  towns  of  the  realm  (the 
religious  houses  and  manor  places  of  their  lords  always  excepted,  and  peradventure 
eome  great  personage) ;  but  each  made  his  fire  against  a  reredosse  in  the  hall, 
where  he  dined  and  dressed  his  meat.  The  second  is  the  great  amendment  of 
lodging ;  for  said  they,  '  our  fathers  and  we  ourselves  have  lain  full  oft  upon  straw 
pallets,  covered  only  with  a  sheet,  under  coverlets  made  of  dogswaine,  and  a  good 
round  log  under  their  heads  instead  of  a  bolster.1  *  *  *  *  As  for  servants,  if 
they  had  any  sheet  above  them  it  was  well,  for  seldom  had  they  any  under  their 
bodies  to  keep  them  from  the  pricking  straws  that  ran  oft  through  the  canvas  and 
rasad  their  hardened  hides.  The  third  thing  they  tell  us  of  is  the  exchange  of 
treene  platters  (so  called.  I  suppose,  from  tree  or  wood)  into  pewter,  and  wooden 
spoons  into  silver  or  tin.  For  so  common  were  all  sorts  of  treene  vessels  in  old 
time,  that  a  man  should  hardly  find  four  pieces  of  pewter  (of  which  one  was  perad- 
veniure  a  salt)  in  a  good  farmer's  house." 


THOMAS      SACKVILLE.  6JL 

Houses  were  built  upon  improved  plans.  The  architect  and  the 
artist  were  recognized  as  contributing  to  the  pleasure  of  life. 
There  was  wonderful  improvement  in  the  use  of  materials.  In  this 
startling  age  the  whole  national  mind  was  interested  in  questions 
of  state.  Sympathies  and  prejudices  were  intense.  For  the  first 
time  the  average  Englishman  was  using  his  brain.  Society  was 
active,  thoughtful,  aspiring,  and  its  influence  upon  those  who  had 
genius  for  letters  was  powerfully  stimulating.  The  great  writers 
who  shine  in  the  literary  splendor  of  the  Elizabethan  age  were  the 
natural  product  of  the  newly-awakened,  thoughtful  English  nation 
of  that  day. 

The  first  name  that  gains  a  lasting  distinction  is  that  of  Thomas 
Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst,  (1536-1608).  After  winning  much 
applause  for  his  share  in  the  composition  of  a  tragedy,  he  planned 
a  work  entitled  A  Mirror  for  Magistrates.  It  was  to  narrate  in  verse 
a  series  of  tragic  stories  drawn  from  the  history  of  England ;  and 
these  stories  were  to  serve  as  lessons  of  virtue,  and  as  warnings  to 
future  kings  and  statesmen.  Other,  and  dreary  poets  carried  out  the 
details  of  Sackville's  ingenious  plan.  In  1559  the  first  edition  of  the 
work  appeared.  Other  editions  followed,  each  succeeding  one  con- 
taining new  contributions  of  verse,  until  the  sixth  edition,  published 
in  1571,  was  of  enormous  bulk.  Although  the  work  was  admired 
in  its  own  day,  it  has  not  sufficient  poetical  merit  to  attract  the  at- 
tention of  the  modern  reader.  Sackville  himself  wrote  the  Induc- 
tion (the  introduction)  and  the  Complaint  of  Henry,  DvJee  of  Buck- 
ingham ;  and  by  these  parts  he  saved  the  work  from  utter  stupidity. 
He  had  power  of  expression  and  skill  in  the  conduct  of  allegorical 
thought ;  but  his  meditations  are  very  serious,  and  gloom  shadows 
the  playing  of  his  imagination.  These  poetic  passages  were  writ- 
ten in  his  early  life,  and  they  are  all  that  he  has  contributed  to 
literature.  They  fill  but  a  small  place  on  the  printed  page,  yet 
they  are  so  far  superior  to  what  was  written  by  the  contemporane- 
ous poets  of  his  early  life,  that  we  may  appropriately  call  him  the 
herald  of  the  splendors  of  the  Elizabethan  Literature.  After  his 
early  manhood  all  his  years  were  crowded  with  the  cares  of  state. 

Sir  Philip  Sidney,  (1554-1586)  exerted  a  potent  influence  over 
the  spirit  of  his  age.  The  qualities  of  his  character  commanded 
the  loving  respect  of  all  men.  His  tastes  were  scholarly,  his  love  for 
virtue  was  intense,  he  was  magnanimous,  he  had  heroic  traits,  and 


62  BIB    PHIL  LP    SID  2T  BY. 

after  living  nobly  he  died  a  hero.  His  definition  of  gentlemanlinesa 
— "  high  erected  thoughts  seated  in  a  heart  of  courtesy  " — might  be 
pronounced  as  the  fitting  description  of  his  manliness.  In  his  own 
time  and  until  the  present  day  he  has  been  regarded  as  the  model 
English  gentleman.  The  charm  of  his  life  has  led  to  over-estimate3 
of  the  worth  of  his  writings.  His  contributions  to  our  literature  con- 
sist of  a  small  collection  of  sonnets  called  Astrophel  and  Stella  (4J)  ; 
a  prose  romance  entitled  The  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Arcadia;  and  A 
Defence  of  Poesy  (55.)  The  sonnets  have  a  languid  elegance.  The 
Arcadia,  full  of  the  spirit  of  chivalry,  illustrates  in  its  style  the  de- 
fects of  that  euphuism  to  which  we  shall  refer  hereafter.  The  story, 
though  it  would  be  tedious  to  the  devoted  reader  of  Scott  or  Dick- 
ens, was  popular  in  the  da\s  of  Shakespeare,  and  was  the  most 
charming  of  books  to  the  people  of  leisure  and  fashion  in  the  first 
half  of  the  seventeenth  century.  Sidney's  Defence  of  Poets  is  the 
work  on  which  his  fame  in  literature  now  rests.  It  is  a  manly 
attempt  to  set  forth  the  worth  of  the  poet,  and  was  written  in 
opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  the  radical  Puritans  of  that  day, 
who,  in  their  fanatical  zeal,  denounced  whatever  contributed  to  & 
taste  for  the  beautiful. 


EDMUND    SPENSER. 


"  Our  sage  and  serious  Spenser."—  Milton. 

"  Milton  has  acknowledged  to  me  that  Spenser  was  his  original."  —  Dryden. 

"  Master  Edmuad  Spenser  had  done  enough  for  the  immortality  of  his  name,  had 
he  only  given  us  his  Shepherd's  Kalendar."—  Drayton, 

"  There  is  something  in  Spenser  that  pleases  one  as  strongly  in  one's  old  age  as 
it  did  in  one's  youth."—  Pope. 

"  Do  you  love  Spenser  ?    I  love  him  in  my  heart  of  hearts."—  Southey. 

"  The  poetry  of  Spenser  is  remarkable  for  brilliant  imagination,  fertile  invention,  . 
and  flowing  rhythm  ;  yet,  with  all  these  recommendations,  it  is  cold  and  tedious." 
—  Chateaubriand. 

"  Spenser  seems  to  me  a  most  genuine  poet,  and  to  be  justly  placed  after  Shake- 
speare and  Milton,  and  above  all  other  English  poets."—  Mackintosh. 

"  We  must  not  fear  to  assert,  with  the  best  judges  of  this  and  former  ages,  that 
Spenser  is  still  the  third  name  in  the  poetical  literature  of  our  country,  and  that  he 
has  not  been  surpassed,  except  by  Dante,  in  any  other."—  Hallam. 

"  Among  the  numerous  poets  belonging  exclusively  to  Elizabeth's  reign,  Spenser 
stands  without  a  class  and  without  a  rival.  *  *  *  *  There  are  few  eminent  poets 
in  the  language  who  have  not  been  essentially  indebted  to  him."—  Campbell. 

"  One  unpardonable  fault,  the  fault  of  tediousness,  pervades  the  whole  of  the 
Faerie  Queene.  We  become  sick  of  cardinal  virtues  and  deadly  sins,  and  long  for 
the  society  of  plain  men  and  women.  Of  the  persons  who  read  the  first  canto,  not 
one  in  ten  reaches  the  end  of  the  first  book,  and  not  one  in  a  hundred  perseveres  to 
the  end  of  the  poem."  —  Macaulay. 

"  But  some  people  will  gay  that  all  this  (the  Faerie  Queene}  may  be  very  fine,  but 
they  cannot  understand  it  on  account  of  the  allegory.  They  are  afraid  of  the  alle- 
gory, as  if  they  thought  it  would  bite  them  ;  they  look  at  it  as  a  child  looks  at  a 
dragon,  and  think  it  will  strangle  them  in  its  shining  folds.  This  is  very  idle.  If 
they  do  not  meddle  with  the  allegory,  the  allegory  will  not  meddle  with  them. 
Without  minding  it  at  all,  the  whole  is  as  plain  as  a  pike-staff."—  Hazlitt. 


only  non-dramatic  poet  of  the  Elizabethan  age  who 
-*-      could  rank  by  the  side  of  the  best  poets  of  this  cen- 
tury was  the  illustrious  Edmund  Spenser. 
B.  1552?]     After  the  long  and  dreary  interval  of  nearly 
D.     1599.]     two  centuries,  he  appeared  as  the  worthy  sue- 


64  6  P  E  X  S  E  R . 

cessor  to  Chaucer.  He  was  born  in  London,  about  1552. 
During  his  youth  he  lived  in  humble  circumstances.  He  was 
educated  at  the  University  of  Cambridge.  After  acquiring 
much  genuine  culture  at  the  university,  he  began  his  bril- 
liant and  unhappy  career  as  a  man  of  letters.  Two  years 
were  spent  in  the  north  of  England,  where  he  wrote  the 
Shepherd's  Calendar,  finding  in  its  composition  some  solace 
for  his  grief  and  disappointment  as  a  lover.*  At  Cambridge 
he  had  formed  an  intimate  friendship  with  Gabriel  Harvey, 
a  man  of  learning  and  of  considerable  literary  reputation. 
This  friend  summoned  Spenser  from  the  north  of  England 
to  London,  and  introduced  him  to  Sir  Philip  Sidney.  Sidney 
Avelcomed  the  poet  to  his  house,  treated  him  with  the  utmost 
kindness,  and  cheered  him  on  in  his  literary  ambition. 
At  Sidney's  mansion  Spenser  revised  his  Shepherd's  Calen- 
dar, and,  under  the  title  of  the  Poet's  Year,  dedicated  it  to 
"  Maister  Philip  Sidney,  worthy  of  all  titles,  both  of  chivalry 
and  poesy."  He  was  anxious  to  win  the  patronage  of  some 
great  person  who  would  treat  him  so  generously  as  to  enable 
him  to  devote  his  life  to  literary  pursuits.  In  our  day, 
such  an  ambition  would  be  considered  unmanly  and  ser- 
vile; but  it  must  be  remembered  that  before  Shakespeare  no 
man  had  been  able  to  earn  his  bread  by  literary  work. 
Whoever  had  love  for  letters,  if  he  were  a  poor  man,  had 
either  to  quench  that  love  or  to  secure  the  patronage  of 
wealth.  Spenser's  object  was  well-nigh  accomplished  when 

*  "  Early  in  Spenser's  life  he  had  worshipped  a  fair  Rosalind,  whose  faithless 
trifling  with  him  and  eventual  preference  of  a  rival  are  recorded  in  the  Shepherd's 
Calendar.  E.  K.  (an  unknown  commentator  on  Spenser)  tells  us  that  '  the  name 
being  well  ordered  will  betray  the  rery  name  of  Spenser's  love,'  whence  it  has  been 
conjectured  that  she  was  a  lass  of  the  name  of  Rosa  Lynde.  *  *  *  He  remained 
eome  twelve  or  fourteen  years  without  thoughts  of  marriage.  But  in  the  years 
159-2-3  he  fell  in  with  an  Elizabeth  (her  surname  is  lost),  towards  whom  his  heart 
turned  ;  and  after  a  courtship  set  forth  in  his  Amortttl  or  sonnets,  he  married  her 
in  1594  He  was  then  forty-one  or  forty-two  years  (if  age.  His  wife  was  of  lowly 
origin.  '  She  was  certes  but  a  country  lasse,'  but  beautiful—'  so  sweet,  so  lovely, 
and  so  mild  as  she.'  Her  eyes  were  '  sapphires  blue,'  her  hair  of '  rippling  gold.'  "- 
Clarendon  Press  Serifs—  Tfa  Fury  Queens,,  p.  8. 


S  P  E  X  S  E  R  .  65 

Sidney  became  his  friend.  Sidney  presented  him  to  Dudley, 
Earl  of  Leicester,  the  favorite  of  Elizabeth,  and  Dudley 
brought  him  under  the  notice  of  the  Queen.  To  her  Spenser 
paid  his  literary  homage,  gaining  her  applause,  and  receiving 
an  appointment  in  Ireland  in  1580.  Six  years  afterwards,  a 
grant  of  about  three  thousand  acres  of  confiscated  lands, 
not  far  from  Cork,  was  given  to  him.  Kilcolman  Castle 
was  his  residence;  and  there,  surrounded  by  the  charms  of 
wonderfully  beautiful  scenery,  but  far  removed  from  the 
society  of  men  of  letters,  and  bitterly  hated  by  the  Irish 
peasantry,  he  composed  the  most  important  of  his  poetical 
works.  In  1591  a  pension  of  fifty  pounds  a  year  was  decreed 
to  him  by  the  Queen.  Occasional  visits  from  English  gen- 
tlemen and  infrequent  journeys  to  England  relieved  the 
monotony  of  his  secluded  life.  In  1598  a  great  rebellion 
broke  out  in  the  southern  part  of  Ireland.  Euglish  resi- 
dents could  look  for  no  mercy  from  the  insurgents.  Spenser 
was  specially  disliked  by  them.  His  castle  was  attacked 
and  burned,  and  his  infant  child  perished  in  the  flames. 
Overwhelmed  by  his  misfortune  and  his  grief,  the  poet  has- 
tened to  London,  where  he  died  in  January,  1599.  There 
was  great  pomp  at  his  funeral.  "  Poets  attended  upon  his 
hearse,  and  mournful  elegies,  with  the  pens  that  wrote 
them,  were  thrown  into  his  tomb."  He  was  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey,  near  the  tomb  of  Chaucer.  The  years 
of  his  life  were  almost  coincident  with  the  years  of  the 
reign  of  the  great  Queen.* 

Spenser's  avowed  aim   was  to   write  in   the    spirit  of 

* "  Short  curling  hair,  a  full  moustache,  close-clipped  beard,  heavy  eyebrows,  and 
trader  them  thoughtful  brown  eye*,  whose  upper  eyelids  weigh  them  dreamily 
down  :  a  long  and  straight  nose,  strongly  developed,  answering  to  a  long  and  some- 
what spare  face,  with  a  well-formed,  sensible-looking  forehead ;  a  mouth  almost 
obscured  by  the  moustache,  but  still  showing  rather  full  lips,  denoting  feeling,  well 
Bet  together,  so  that  the  warmth  of  feeling  shall  not  run  riot,  with  a  touch  of  sadness 
in  them.  Such  is  the  look  of  Spenser,  as  his  portrait  hands  it  down  to  u?.  A 
refined,  thoughtful,  warm-hearted,  pure-souled  Englishman."  —  Clarendon  Press 
Series— The  Fa-ery  (fjftnc,  p.  10. 


66  THEFAERYQUEEXE. 

Chaucer  and  Piers  Ploughman,  rather  than  after  the  spirit- 
less versifiers  of  the  fifteenth  century.  His  first  fame  was 
gained  by  the  publication  of  the  Shepherd's  Calendar.  This 
work  is  a  series  of  pastorals,  divided  into  twelve  parts,  a  part 
for  each  month,  in  which,  as  in  Virgil's  Bucolics,  the 
imaginary  interlocutors  discuss  questions  of  morality  and 
of  state.  By  depicting  English  scenery,  and  by  selecting 
English  names  for  his  rustics,  he  endeavored  to  give  a 
national  air  to  these  eclogues.  They  abound  in  fine  de- 
scriptions of  nature.  Towards  their  close  he  anticipates  the 
greater  glory  that  will  be  found  in  his  later  writing.  The 
work  was  thought  by  his  contemporaries  to  mark  an  epoch 
in  the  literature.  In  language  and  in  sentiment  it  was 
more  rustic  than  pastoral  poetry  had  been. 

Spenser's  greatest  work,  The  Faery  Queene  (38-42), 
is  the  latest  and  most  brilliant  poetical  expression  of  the  sen- 
timents of  chivalry.  Whatever  charms  may  be  in  allegory, 
in  graphic  narration,  in  splendid  description,  are  found 
in  this  extended,  though  incomplete,  poem.  The  original 
plan  proposed  twelve  books  of  moral  adventures,  each  book 
recounting  the  exploit  of  a  knight  and  the  triumph  of  a 
virtue.  The  hero  of  the  entire  poem  was  Prince  Arthur.  In 
the  twelve  books  he  was  to  be  perfected  in  the  twelve  moral 
virtues;  and  the  poet  purposed,  if  this  work  should  be  suc- 
cessful, to  write  a  second  poem,  in  which  the  political  virtues 
of  the  same  hero  should  be  sung.  But  six  of  the  first  twelve 
books  were  published.  Tradition  asserts  that  the  latter  por- 
tion was  completed  and  lost  at  sea ;  but  it  is  probable  that  the 
design  was  never  executed.  That  the  work  is  incomplete 
need  not  be  regretted ;  for  the  vigor,  invention,  and  splendor 
found  in  the  first  three  books  decline  in  the  fourth,  fifth, 
and  sixth.  The  carefulness  of  the  poet  does  not  abate.  The 
reader  has  keen  sympathy  for  the  toiling  patience  which  pol- 
ished and  decorated  even  the  most  obscure  parts  of  the  poem. 
That  fidelity  to  details  probably  prevented  the  completion 


THE     FAERY      QUEENE.  07 

of  the  work.  The  plans  of  the  structure  were  all  drawn ; 
the  elevations  gave  promise  of  grandeur;  each  part  was 
finished  as  the  builder  proceeded ;  but  the  time  and  labor  he 
g:ive  in  arranging  and  beautifying  materials  had  consumed 
his  life  when  his  work  was  not  half  done. 

•  The  hero,  Prince  Arthur,  arriving  at  the  court  of  the 
Faery  Queene  in  Fairy-Land,  finds  her  holding  a  solemn 
festival  during  twelve  days.     At  the  court  there  is  a  beauti- 
ful lady  for  whose  hand  the  twelve  most  distinguished  knights 
are  rivals ;   and  in  order  to  settle  their  pretensions  these 
twelve  heroes  undertake  twelve  separate  adventures,  which 
furnish  the  materials  for  the  action.   The  First  Book  relates 
the  expedition  of  the  Eed-Cross  Knight,  who  is  the  allegori- 
cal representative  of  Holiness,  while  his  mistress  Una  repre- 
sents true  Religion  ;  and  the  action  of  the  knight's  exploit 
shadows  forth  the  triumph  of  Holiness  over  the  enchant- 
ments and  deceptions  of  Heresy.    The  Second  Book  recounts 
the  adventures  of  Sir  Guyon,  or  Temperance  ;  the  Third, 
those  of  Britomartis  —  a  female   champion  —  or  Chastity. 
Each  of  these  books  is  subdivided  into  twelve  cantos ;  con- 
sequently the  poem,  even  in  the  imperfect  form  under  which 
we  possess  it,  is  extremely  voluminous.     The  publication 
of  these  three  books  was  long  delayed  on  account  of  the 
unfavorable  criticism  of  Harvey ;   but  in  1589,  Sir  Walter 
Ealeigh  visited  Spenser,  heard  the  fragment  of  the  poem, 
gave  it  enthusiastic  applause,  and  persuaded  the  author  to 
accompany  him  to  England  in  order  that  what  was  written 
might  be  given  to  the  public  without  delay.* 

*  "  When  we  conceive  Spenser  reciting  his  compositions  to  Raleigh  in  a  scene  so 
beautifully  appropriate,  the  mind  casts  pleasing  retrospect  over  that  influence  which 
the  enterprise  of  the  discoverer  of  Virginia  and  the  genius  of  the  author  of  the  Faery 
Queene  have  respectively  produced  in  the  fortune  and  language  of  England.    The 
fancy  might  easily  be  pardoned  for  a  momentary  superstition  that  the  genius  of 
their  country  hovered,  unseen,  over  their  meeting,  casting  her  first  look  of  regard 
On  the  poet  that  was  destined  to  inspire  her  future  Milton,  and  the  other  on  her 
maritime  hero,  who  paved  the  way  for  colonizing  distant  regions  of  the   earth, 
where  the  language  of  England  was  to  be  spoken,  aud  the  poetry  of  Spenser  to 
be  admired.''—  Thomat  Campbell. 


68  T  H  E     F  A  L  II  Y      Q  U  E  E  X  E  . 

The  three  books  appeared  in  1590,  and  were  dedi- 
cated to  Elizabeth.  She  reciprocated  the  poet's  compliment 
by  grantinsf  him  a  pension  of  fifty  pounds  a  year.  But  his 
best  praise  was  given  by  the  multitude  of  readers  who  recog- 
nized him  as  the  noblest  poet  their  country  had  produced. 
He  returned  to  Ireland  to  prosecute  his  work,  and  in  15-96 
published  the  fourth,  fifth,  and  sixth  books,  allegories  of 
Friendship,  Justice,  and  Courtesy. 

In  this  poem,  three  different  qualities  are  harmonized 
which  would  appear  irreconcilable :  for  the  plan  of  the  story 
is  derived  from  chivalric  legends ;  the  moral  sentiment  from 
the  lofty  philosophy  of  Plato,  combined  with  the  noblest 
Christian  purity;  while  the  versification  is  filled  with  the 
flowing  grace  and  sensuous  elegance  of  the  great  Italian 
poets.  No  man  ever  had  a  fonder  love  of  the  good  and  the 
beautiful ;  no  poem  has  a  steadier  radiance  of  goodness  and 
beauty.  There  are  no  blazing  passages  of  passion  in  Spen- 
ser's writing.  "  He  has  auroral  lights  in  profusion,  but  no 
lightning."  *  We  may  smile  or  we  may  be  saddened  in  read- 
ing him,  but  we  neither  laugh  nor  weep.  The  power  of 
Spenser's  genius  is  displayed  in  an  unequalled  richness  of 
description.  He  describes  to  the  eye.  To  the  airy  con- 
ceptions of  allegory  he  gives  the  distinctness  of  real 
objects. 

Those  who  would  read  him  with  the  intensest  delight  f 
must  not  try  to  interpret  the  allegory.  They  must  yield 
themselves  to  the  mighty  magic  of  his  imagination.  Though 
tiresome  to  many  a  reader,  he  is  the  most  enchanting  of 

*  Whipple. 

t  " '  Much  depends,'  says  Charles  Lamb,  'npon  ichen  and  where  you  read  a  book. 
In  the  five  or  six  impatient  minutes  before  the  dinner  is  quite  ready,  who  would 
think  of  taking  up  the  Faery  Queene  for  a  stop-gap  f '  Select  rather  a  June  morning, 
when  the  brilliant  white  clouds  are  sailing  slowly  through  a  bine  sky,  a  grassy  bank 
under  a  tree,  looking  down  a  long  valley  with  broken  hills  in  the  distance ;  let  mind 
and  body  both  be  at  ease,  and  both  be  disposed  to  dream,  but  not  to  sleep,  and 
•when  the  influences  of  nature  have  had  their  due  effect,  open,  if  you  please,  at  the 
middle  of  the  Legend  of  Sir  Gnyon."—  Professor  F.  J.  Child. 


SPENSER.  69 

poets  to  one  who  is  endowed  with  a  lively  fancy.  He  is 
justly  called  "  the  poet's  poet." 

No  poetry  can  be  more  uniformly  and  exquisitely  musi- 
cal than  Spenser's.  The  richness  of  the  sound,  the  sweet- 
ness of  the  rhythm,  would  surfeit  the  ear  and  make  the  verse 
enervate,  were  he  not  a  master  who  modulates  the  sound, 
and  paints  the  pictures  for  the  fancy.  The  stanza  he  used, 
named  after  him  the  Spenserian,  consists  of  nine  lines,  and 
is  formed  by  adding  an  Alexandrine  to  Chaucer's  stanza  of 
eight  lines.  It  demands  a  frequent  recurrence  of  the  same 
rhymes — four  of  one  ending,  three  of  another,  and  two  of  a 
third — and  in  supplying  this  demand  throughout  the  poem, 
Spenser  was  obliged  to  do  violence  to  the  orthography  and 
accentuation  of  the  language,  to  use  many  archaic  and  pro- 
vincial words,  and  even,  in  some  cases,  to  invent  the  word 
that  should  furnish  his  verse  with  the  needed  rhyme.  His 
vocabulary  was  considered  antique  and  peculiar  by  his  con- 
temporaries. His  peculiarities  have  affected  the  language 
less  than  those  of  any  other  great  writer. 

Whenever  Spenser  was  not  playing  the  part  of  a  courtier 
he  manifested  a  retiring  spirit.  He  was  imaginative  rather 
than  observant,  and  did  not  seek  society  where  he  could 
observe  real  men ;  therefore  his  descriptions  of  men  are  the 
products  of  his  fancy.  Still  he  has  intense  sympathy  with 
the  aroused  spirit  of  his  nation.  Throughout  his  works 
there  are  allusions  to  her  greatness  and  warm  applause  for 
her  championship  of  justice  and  progress,  and  there  is  a 
breathing  of  the  purest  loyalty  for  the  nation's  queen. 

Among  the  more  important  of  his  minor  poetical  works 
are  Mother  Hubbertfs  Tale,  a  satire,  written  in  his  youth, 
upon  the  hypocrisy  of  certain  classes  of  the  clergy,  and  upon 
the  heartlessness  of  the  life  at  court,  Daphnaida  and  Astro- 
phel,  elegies  on  the  deaths  of  Lady  Howard  and  Sir  Philip 
Sidney;  and  above  all  his  Epithalamium  (43),  written  in 
celebration  of  his  x>wn  marriage  to  the  "  fair  Elizabeth,"  the 


70  SPENSER. 

chastest  and  most  beautiful  marriage-hymn  to  be  found 
in  the  whole  range  of  literature.  The  ardor  of  his  love 
transfused  it  with  a  rapture  not  found  elsewhere  in  his 
verse.  Hallam  says  of  it,  —  "It  is  a  strain  redolent  of 
a  bridegroom's  joy,  and  of  a  poet's  fancy.  The  English 
language  seems  to  expand  itself  with  a  copiousness  unknown 
before,  while  he  pours  forth  the  varied  imagery  of  this  splen- 
did little  poem." 

Spenser  has  left  one  work  which  displays  his  energy  and 
skill  as  a  writer  of  prose.  It  is  A  View  of  the  State  of  Ire- 
land, setting  forth  his  estimate  of  the  character  and  condi- 
tion of  the  Irish  people,  and  recommending  a  severe  and 
cruel  policy  to  the  English  government.* 

" 
Samuel  Daniel  (1562-1619),  who  is   said   to  have  succeeded 

Spenser  as  Poet  Laureate,  enjoyed  among  his  contemporaries  a 
respect  merited  by  his  talents  and  by  his  character.  His  life  was 
quiet  and  studious.  He  wrote  many  lyrics,  a  few  dramatic  com- 
positions, and  The  History  of  the  Civil  Wars,  a  poem  on  the  contest 
between  the  houses  of  York  and  Lancaster  (46).  His  language  is 
pure,  limpid,  and  free  from  the  affectation  of  archaism,  which  is 
found  in  Spenser's  writing. 

Michael  Drayton  (1563-1631)  was  an  industrious  poet ;  also 
much  admired  by  his  contemporaries.  His  longest  and  most 
celebrated  work,  entitled  PolyoUnon  (48),  is  a  poetical  ram- 
ble over  England  and  Wales,  and  is  unique  in  literature.  In 
thirty  ponderous  cantos,  containing  fifteen  thousand  monotonous 
Alexandrine  couplets,  he  enthusiastically,  but  with  painful  accu- 
racy, describes  the  rivers,  mountains,  and  forests  of  his  country, 
giving  also  detailed  accounts  of  local  legends  and  antiquities. 
Many  truly  poetic  passages  are  found  in  the  work ;  but  it  is  chiefly 

*  The  following  generally  accessible  works  contain  specially  interesting  discus- 
sions of  the  life  and  writings  of  Spenser  : 

Whipple's  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth,  The  Introduction  to  the  Claren- 
don Press  edition  of  the  Faery  Queene,  the  Memoir  in  Professor  Child's  Edition  of 
Spenser's  works,  Hallara's  Literature  of  Europe,  Taine's  English  Literature,  Black- 
wood's  Magazine  for  November,  1833,  Campbell's  Specimens  of  English  Poetry, 
EUzKtt's  Lectures  on  fhe  English  Poets,  Lectures  II.  and  III. 


M  I  X  0  R     ELIZABETHAN     POETS.  71 

interesting  as  a  monument  of  untiring  industry.  Among  his  other 
writings  are  The  Barons'  Wars,  a  poem  describing  the  principal  events 
of  the  unhappy  reigu  of  Edward  II.,  England's  Heroical  Epistles, 
letters  supposed  to  have  been  written  by  illustrious  Englishmen  to 
the  objects  of  their  love,  and  the  exquisite  Nymphidia  (47),  in 
which  everything  that  is  delicate,  quaint,  and  fantastic  in  fairy 
mythology  is  accumulated,  and  touched  with  consummate  felicity. 

The  success  of  Spenser  led  many  aspirants  to  seek  poetical  fame 
in  allegorical  composition.  Two  brothers,  Giles  (1588-1623)  and 
Fhineas  Fletcher  (1584-1650),  cousins  of  Beaumont's  colleague, 
were  the  only  imitators  who  had  enough  of  Spenser's  spirit  to  copy 
him  with  any  success.  The  first  published  a  poem  entitled  Ghrisfs 
Victory  and  Triumph  (53) ;  the  second,  under  the  title  of  The  Purple 
Island,  wrote  an  allegorical  description  of  the  human  body  and 
mind.  But  allegorical  anatomy,  however  skilfully  managed,  is  not 
attractive  to  the  reader.  When  the  veins  and  arteries  of  the  body 
are  described  as  brooks  and  rivers  of  blood,  poetical  fancy  cannot 
redeem  verse  from  the  ludicrous  misuse. 

The  origin  of  English  poetical  satire  is  generally  assigned  to 
this  age.  Many  passages,  indeed,  of  social  and  personal  invective 
are  found  in  earlier  writers;  Chaucer's  pictures  of  the  monastic 
orders  abound  in  open  and  implied  censure ;  both  the  spirit  and 
matter  of  Langlande's  work  are  satirical :  but  in  neither  of  these 
authors  is  satire  an  essential  characteristic;  a  certain  infusion  of  it 
was  inevitable  to  the  task  they  undertook,  but  it  was  far  from  being 
a  primary  condition.  Skelton  was  too  ribaldrous,  too  full  of  mere 
venom  and  spite  against  individuals,  to  be  ranked  as  anything  more 
than  a  mere  lampooner ;  and  Surrey  and  Wyatt  pointed  out  the 
way  to  this  kind  of  composition  without  following  it  themselves. 
The  -first  English  writer  who  distinctly  calls  himself  a  satirist  is 
Joseph  Hall  (1574-1656)  (118);  and  the  general  opinion  of  later 
critics  has  acquiesced  in  his  assertion.  In  1597,  then  fresh  from 
Cambridge,  he  published  three  books  of  Uting  satires,  and  two  yeara 
afterwards,  three  more  of  toothless  satires.  To  the  collective  work  he 
gave  the  name  of  Virgidemarium..  or  a  harvest  of  rods  (51).  These 
poems  seem  to  fulfill  all  the  conditions  of  satire;  with  great  energy 
and  some  humor,  they  attack  the  prevailing  follies  and  affectations 
both  of  literature  and  social  life.  Though  the  numbers  are  often 
harsh  and  the  meaning  obscure,  they  possess  enough  of  the  spirit 


72  MINOR     ELIZABETH  A  X      P  0  E  T  S  . 

of  Juvenal  to  make  them  still  readable.  la  later  life  Hall  won 
greater  distinction  by  his  sermons ;  and  as  a  champion  of  episco- 
pacy he  ventured  to  grapple  with  Milton  himself. 

The  number  of  minor  poets  produced  indicates  the  unparal- 
leled literary  activity  of  the  Elizabethan  age.  As  many  as  two 
hundred  have  been  reckoned  who  gave  evidence  of  skill  in  con- 
structing verse. 

It  is,  besides,  a  special  distinction  of  the  same  age  that  it  pro- 
duced translations  of  unusual  excellence.  The  finest  of  them,  the 
Iliad  and  Odyssey  of  George  Chapman  (1557-1634),  appeared 
early  in  the  seventeenth  century.  They  have  won  the  enthusiastic 
admiration  of  several  generations  of  poets,  from  Waller  to  Keats. 
'•  The  earnestness  and  passion,"  says  Charles  Lamb,  "  which  he  has 
put  into  every  part  of  these  poems  would  be  incredible  to  a  reader 
of  more  modern  translations." 

But  the  grandest  phenomenon  of  the  epoch  of  Elizabeth  is  the 
Drama,  and  to  it  we  shall  now  address  ourselves. 


CHAPTER     VIII. 

THE    DAWN     OF    TH  E    DRAMA. 

O  PAIN  and  England  alone,  among,  all  tbe  modern  civilized 
nations,  possess  a  theatrical  literature  independent  in  its 
origin,  characteristic  in  its  form,  and  reflecting  faithfully  the  moral, 
social,  and  intellectual  features  of  the  people  among  whom  it  arose. 
The  dawning  of  the  English  dramatic  literature  can  be  traced  to  a 
period  not  far  removed  from  the  Norman  Conquest ;  for  the  cus- 
tom of  representing',  in  a  rude  dramatic  form,  legends  of  the  lives 
of  the  saints  and  striking  episodes  of  Bible  History,  existed  as  early 
as  the  twelfth  century.  To  these  the  name  of  Mysteries  or  Miracle- 
plays  was  given.  The  earliest  on  record  is  the  Play  of  St.  Catherine, 
which  was  represented  at  Dunstable  in  1119,  written  in  French, 

and  was  in  all  probability  a  rude  dramatized  picture  of  the 
1119.]  miracles  and  martyrdom  of  that  saint.  These  performances 

were  an  expedient  employed  by  the  clergy  for  giving  re- 
ligious instruction  to  the  people,  and  for  extending  and  strengthen- 
ing the  influence  of  the  Church  by  gratifying  the  curiosity  of  rude 
hearers.  A.t  first  the  plays  were  composed  and  acted  by  monks ; 
the  cathedral  was  transformed  for  the  nonce  into  a  theatre,  the 
stage  was  a  graduated  platform  in  three  divisions — representing 
Heaven,  Earth,  and  Hell — rising  one  over  the  other,  and  the  cos- 
tumes were  furnished  from  the  vestry  of  the  church.  The  simple 
faith  of  the  monkish  dramatists, and  of  their  audience,  saw  no  im- 
propriety in  representing  the  most  supernatural  beings,  the  persons 
of  the  Trinity,  angels,  devils,  saints,  and  martyrs.  It  was  abso- 
lutely necessary  that  some  comic  element  should  be  introduced  to 
enliven  the  graver  scenes ;  and  this  was  supplied  by  representing 
the  wicked  personages  of  the  drama  as  placed  in  ludicrous  situa- 
tions ;  thus  the  Devil  generally  played  the  part  of  the  clown  or 


74  THE    MIRACLLS. 

jester,  and  was  exhibited  in  a  light  half  terrific  and  half  farcical. 
The  modern  puppet-play  of  Punch  is  a  tradition  handed  down  from 
these  ancient  miracles,  in  which  the  Evil  One  was  alternately  the 
conqueror  and  the  victim  of  the  human  Buffoon,  Jester,  or  Vice, 
as  he  was  called.  The  morality  of  the  time  did  not  prevent  the  use 
of  vulgar  or  of  profane  language. 

Some  idea  of  these  religious  dramas  may  be  formed  from  their 
titles.  The  Creation  of  the  World,  the  Fall  of  Man,  the  story  of 
Cain  and  Abel,  the  Crucifixion  of  Our  Lord,  the  Massacre  of  the  In- 
nocents, The  Play  of  the  Blessed  Sacrament,  the  Deluge,  are  in  the  list, 
besides  an  infinite  multitude  of  subjects  taken  from  the  lives  and 
miracles  of  the  saints.  The  plays  are  generally  written  in  mixed 
prose  and  verse ;  and,  though  abounding  in  absurdities,  they  con- 
tain passages  of  simple  and  natural  pathos,  and  scenes  of  genuine, 
if  not  very  delicate,  humor.  In  the  Deluge,  a  comic  scene  is  pro- 
duced by  the  refusal  of  Noah's  wife  to  enter  the  Ark,  and  by  the 
beating  -which  terminates  her  resistance  and  scolding ;  whilst,  on 
the  other  hand,  a  mystery  entitled  the  Sacrifice  of  Isaac  contains 
a  pathetic  dialogue  between  Abraham  and  his  son.  The  oldest 
manuscript  of  a  miracle-play  in  English  is  that  of  the  Harrowing 
of  Hell,  i.  e.,  the  Conquering  of  Hell  by  Christ,  believed  to  have 
been  written  about  1350. 

The  Miracle-play  is  not  quite  extinct  even  yet ;  in  the  retired 
valleys  of  Catholic  Switzerland,  in  the  Tyrol,  and  in  some  seldom 
visited  districts  of  Germany,  the  peasants  still  annually  perform  dra- 
matic spectacles  representing  episodes  in  the  life  of  Christ.  The 
Mysteries,  once  the  only  form  of  dramatic  representation,  continued 
to  be  popular  from  the  eleventh  to  the  end  of  the  fourteenth  cen- 
tury, when  they  were  supplanted  by  another  kind  of  representation, 
called  The  Moralities.  The  subjects  of  these  new  dramas,  instead 
of  being  purely  religious,  were  moral,  as  their  name  implies ;  and 
their  ethical  lessons  were  conveyed  by  action  of  an  allegorical  kind. 
Instead  of  the  Deity  and  his  angels,  the  saints,  the  patriarchs,  and 
the  characters  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  the  persons  who 
figure  in  the  Moralities  are,  Every-Man,  a  general  type  or  expres- 
sion of  humanity  —  Lusty  Juventus,  who  represents  the  follies  and 
weaknesses  of  youth  —  Good  Counsel,  Repentance,  Gluttony,  Pride, 
Avarice,  and  the  like.  The  same  necessity  existed  as  before  for  the 
introduction  of  comic  scenes.  The  Devil  was  therefore  retained  ; 


THE     MORALITIES     AND     INTERLUDES.          7x> 

and  his  hard  blows  and  scoldings  with  the  Vice,  furnished  many 
"  a  fit  of  mirth."  *  The  oldest  English  Moral-play  now  extant  is 
The  Castle  of  Perseverance,  which  was  written  about  1450.  It  is  a 
dramatic  allegory  of  human  life,  representing  the  many  conflicting 
influences  that  surround  man  in  his  way  through  the  world.  An- 
other, called  Lusty  Juteutus,  contains  a  vivid  and  humorous  picture 
of  the  extravagance  and  debauchery  of  a  young  heir,  surrounded 
by  the  Virtues  and  the  Vices,  and  ends  with  a  demonstration  of  the 
inevitable  misery  which  follows  a  departure  from  the  path  of  virtue 
and  religion. 

Springing  from  the  Moralities,  and  bearing  some  general  re- 
semblance to  them,  though  exhibiting  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
regular  drama,  are  the  Interludes,  a  class  of  compositions  in  dia- 
logue, much  shorter  in  extent  and  more  merry  and  farcical.  They 
were  generally  played  in  the  intervals  of  a  festival,  and  were  ex- 
ceedingly fashionable  about  the  time  when  the  great  controversy 
was  raging  between  the  Catholic  Church  and  the  reformed  religion 
in  England.  The  most  noted  author  of  these  grotesque  and  merry 
pieces  was  John  Heywood,  a  man  of  learning  and  accomplishment, 
who  seems  to  have  performed  the  duties  of  entertainer  at  the  court 
of  Henry  VIII.  His  Four  P's  is  a  good  specimen  of  this  phase  of 
the  drama.  It  turns  upon  a  dispute  between  a  Peddlei,  a  Pardoner, 
a  Palmer  and  a  Poticary,  in  which  each  tries  to  tell  the  greatest 
lie.  They  tax  their  powers,  until  at  last,  by  chance,  the  Palmer 
says  that  he  never  saw  a  woman  out  of  temper ;  whereupon  the 
others  declare  his  lie  the  greatest  that  can  be  told,  and  acknowl- 
edge him  the  victor. 

The  national  taste  for  dramatic  entertainments  was  still  further 
fostered  by  those  pageants  which  were  often  employed  to  gratify 
the  vanity  of  citizens,  or  to  compliment  an  illustrious  visitor.  On 

*  "As  for  the  Vice,  he  commonly  acted  the  part  of  a  broad,  rampant  jester  and 
buffoon,  full  of  mad  pranks  and  mischief-making,  liberally  dashed  with  a  sort  of 
tumultuous,  swaggering  fnn.  lie  was  arrayed  in  fantastic  garb,  with  something  of 
drollery  in  its  appearance,  so  as  to  aid  the  comic  effect  of  his  action,  and  armed  with 
a  dagger  of  lath,  perhaps  as  symbolical  that  his  use  of  weapons  was  bnt  tc  the  end 
of  prc voking  his  own  defeat.  Therewithal  he  was  vastly  given  to  cracking  ribald 
and  saucy  jokes  with  and  upon  the  devil,  and  treating  him  in  a  style  of  coarse 
familiarity  and  mockery;  and  a  part  of  his  ordinary  business  was  to  bestride  the 
Devil,  and  beat  him  till  he  roared,  and  the  audience  roared  with  him ;  the  scene 
ending  with  his  being  carried  off  to  Hell  on  the  Devil's  back."— Hudson :  Shake- 
spearfs  Life.  Art  and  Characters,  Vol.  I.,  p.  73. 


76  THE    F  I  K  S  T     ENGLISH     TRAGEDY 

some  lofty  platform,  in  the  porch  or  churchyard  of  a  cathedral,  in 
the  Town  Hall  or  over  the  city  gate,  a  number  of  figures  suitably 
dressed,  accompanied  their  action  with  poetical  declamation  and 
music.  The  Prophets  and  Saints  who  welcomed  the  royal  stranger 
in  the  thirteenth  century  with  barbarous  Latin  hymns,  were  gradu- 
ally supplanted  by  the  Virtues ;  and  these,  in  their  turn,  made  way 
for  the  Cupids,  the  Muses,  and  other  classical  personages,  whose 
influence  has  continued  almost  to  the  literature  of  our  own  time. 
Such  spectacles  were  of  course  frequently  exhibited  at  the  Uni- 
versities, where  the  Latin  tongue  was  invariably  employed  and 
Latin  plays  were  imitated.  These  dramas,  however,  do  not  appear 
to  have  exercised  any  appreciable  influence  on  the  growth  of  the 
English  stage. 

"We  have  now  traced  the  progress  of  the  dramatic  art  from  its 
rude  infancy  in  England,  and  have  seen  how  every  step  of  that 
advance  removed  it  farther  from  a  purely  religious  character.  The 
last  step  of  the  progress  was  the  creation  of  a  drama  which  gives  a 
scenic  representation  of  historical  events  and  of  social  life.  It  was 
about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  activity  of  creation 
was  first  perceptible  in  this  direction.  John  Bale  (1495-1563), 
the  author  of  many  semi-polemical  plays,  set  the  example  of  ex- 
tracting materials  for  rude  dramas  from  the  chronicles  of  his  native 
country.  His  King  Jolin  occupies  an  intermediate  place  between 
the  Moralities  and  the  historical  plays.  But  the  earliest  composition 
in  our  language  that  possesses  all  the  requisites  of  a  regular  tragedy, 
and  the  first  that  is  written  in  blank  verso,  is  the  play  of  Gorboduc, 
or  Ferrex  and  Porrex,  written  by  Thomas  Sackville  *  (the  principal 
writer  in  the  "  Mirror  for  Magistrates"),  and  acted  in  1562  for  the 
entertainment  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  Its  subject  is  borrowed  from 
the  old  half-mythological  Chronicles  of  Britain.  The  dialogue  of 
Gorboduc  is  regularly  and  carefully  constructed ;  but  it  is  totally 
destitute  of  variety  of  pause,  and  consequently  is  unnatural.  The 
sentence  almost  invariably  terminates  with  the  line;  and  the  effect 
of  the  whole  is  tedious;  the  action  also  is  oppressively  tragic, 
being  a  monotonous,  dismal  succession  of  slaughters,  ending  with 
the  desolation  of  an  entire  kingdom. 

The  first  English  comedy  was  Ralph  Royster  Doyster,  acted  in 

*  One  Thomas  Norton  is  said  to  have  been  the  author  of  the  first  three  acts  of 
this  play,  but  his  claim  is  disputed. 


GAMMER    GU  ETON'S    NEEDLE.  77 

1551]  1551,  and  written  by  Nicholas  Udall,  master  of  Eton 
College.  This  was  followed,  about  fifteen  years  later, 
by  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  composed  by  John  Still,  after- 
wards a  bishop,  who  had  previously  been  master  of  St.  John'a 
and  Trinity  Colleges  in  Cambridge.  This  play  was  probably  acted 
by  the  students  of  those  colleges.  Both  these  works  are  curious 
and  interesting,  not  only  as  the  oldest  specimens  of  the  class  of 
literature  to  which  they  belong,  but  also  in  some  measure  from 
their  intrinsic  merit.  The  action  of  the  former  and  better  comedy 
takes  place  in  London.  The  principal  characters  are  a  rich  and 
pretty  widow,  her  lover,  and  an  insuppressible  suitor,  who  gives 
the  title  to  the  play.  This  ridiculous  pretender  to  gayety  and  love 
is  betrayed  into  all  sorts  of  absurd  and  humiliating  scrapes.  The 
piece  ends  with  the  return  of  the  favored  lover  from  a  voyage 
which  he  had  undertaken  in  a  momentary  pique.  The  manners 
represented  are  those  of  the  middle  class  of  the  period ;  and  the 
picture  given  of  life  in  London  in  the  sixteenth  century  is  curious, 
animated,  and  natural.  The  language  is  lively,  and  the  dialogue 
is  carried  on  in  loose  doggerel  rhyme,  very  well  adapted  to  repre- 
sent comic  conversation.  The  plot  of  this  drama  is  well  imagined, 
and  the  reader's  curiosity  is  kept  alive. 

Gammer  Gurton's  Needle  is  a  composition  of  a  much  lower  and 
more  farcical  order.  The  scene  is  laid  in  the  humblest  rustic  life, 
and  all  the  dramatis  persona  belong  to  the  uneducated  class.  The 
principal  action  of  the  comedy  is  the  sudden  loss  of  a  needle  with 
which  Gammer  (Good  Mother)  Gurton  has  been  mending  a  garment 
of  her  man  Hodge,  a  loss  comparatively  serious  when  needles  were 
rare  and  costly.  The  whole  intrigue  consists  in  the  search  instituted 
after  this  unfortunate  little  implement,  which  is  at  last  discovered 
by  Hodge  himself,  on  suddenly  sitting  down,  sticking  in  the  gar- 
ment which  Gammer  Gurton  had  been  repairing. 

As  yet  there  were  neither  regular  theatres  nor  professional 
actors.  Plays  were  performed  in  town-halls,  court-yards  of  inns, 
cock-pits,  and  noblemen's  dining-halls ;  and  the  parts  were  taken 
by  amateurs.  Soon,  however,  companies  of  actors,  singers,  and 
tumblers,  calling  themselves  the  servants  of  some  ncbleman  whose 
livery  they  wore,  were  formed,  and  wandered  about  the  country, 
performing  wherever  they  could  find  an  audience.  Protected 
by  the  livery  of  their  master  against  the  severe  laws  which 


78  THE     FIRST     ENGLISH     THEATRE. 

branded  strollers  as  vagabonds,  they  sought  the  patronage  of  the 
civil  authorities.  Records  of  the  municipal  bodies  and  the  house- 
hold registers  of  illustrious  families  abound  in  entries  of  permissions 
granted  to  such  strolling  companies,  and  of  moneys  given  to  them. 
The  most  interesting  of  these  entries  is  found  in  the  municipal 
records  of  Stratford-upon-Avon,  from  which  we  learn  that  the 
players  visited  that  place  for  the  first  time,  in  1569.  Their  per- 
formance was  probably  given  under  the  patronage  of  Shakespeare's 

father,  who  was  high-bailiff  of  the  town  in  that  year. 
1576.]  But  in  the  year  1576,  under  the  powerful  patronage  of 

the  Earl  of  Leicester,  James  Burbadge  built  the  first  Eng- 
lish theatre.  The  venture  proved  so  successful,  that  twelve  theatres 
were  soon  furnishing  entertainment  to  the  citizens  of  London. 
Of  these  the  most  celebrated  was  '"  The  Globe."  It  was  so  named 
because  its  sign  bore  the  effigy  of  Atlas  supporting  the  globe,  with 
the  motto,  "  Totus  Mundus  ngit  Ristrionem"  and  was  situated  in 
Southwark,  near  London  Bridge.  The  majority  of  the  London  the- 
atres were  on  the  southern  or  Surrey  bank  of  the  Thames,  in  order  to 
be  out  of  the  jurisdiction  of  the  city,  whose  officers  and  magistrates, 
being  under  the  influence  of  the  severe  doctrines  of  Puritanism, 
carried  on  a  constant  war  against  the  players  and  the  play-houses. 
Some  of  these  theatres  were  cock-pits  (the  name  of  "  the  pit "  still 
suggests  the  association) ;  some  were  arenas  for  bull-baiting  and 
bear-baiting ;  and,  compared  with  the  magnificent  theatres  of  the 
present  day,  all  were  poor  and  squalid,  retaining  in  their  form  and 
arrangements  many  traces  of  the  old  model — the  inn-yard.  Most 
of  the  theatres  were  entirely  uncovered,*  excepting  over  the  stage, 
where  a  thatched  roof  protected  the  actors  from  the  weather.  The 
spectators  were  exposed  to  sunshine  and  to  storm.  The  boxes,  or 
"  rooms,"  as  they  were  then  styled,  were  arranged  nearly  as  in  the 
present  day ;  but  the  musicians,  instead  of  being  placed  in  the 
orchestra,  were  in  a  lofty  gallery  over  the  stage. 

The  most  remarkable  peculiarities  of  the  early  English  theatres 
were  the  total  absence  of  painted  or  movable  scenery,  and  the 
necessity  that  the  parts  for  women  should  be  performed  by  men  or 
boys,  actresses  being  as  yet  unknown.  A  few  screens  of  cloth  or 

*  Shakespeare's  company  owned  the  Blackfriars  Theatre  and  the  Globe. 
During  the  winter  the  company  played  in  the  former,  which  was  the  smallei 
and  entirely  roofed  over :  but  during  the  summer  they  used  the  Globe, 


THE    FURNITURE    OF     THE    STAGE.  79 

tapestry  gave  the  actors  the  opportunity  of  making  their  exits  and 
entrances ;  a  placard,  bearing  the  name  of  Rome,  Athens,  London, 
or  Florence,  as  the  case  might  be,  indicated  to  the  audience  the 
scene  of  the  action.  Certain  typical  articles  of  furniture  were  used. 
A  bed  on  the  stage  suggested  a  bed-room ;  a  table  covered  with 
tankards,  a  tavern ;  a  gilded  chair  surmounted  by  a  canopy,  and 
called  "  a  state,"  a  palace ;  an  altar,  a  church,  and  the  like.  A 
permanent  wooden  structure  like  a  scaffold,  erected  at  the  back  of 
the  stage,  represented  objects  according  to  the  requirements  of  the 
piece,  such  as  the  wall  of  a  castle  or  besieged  city,  the  outside  of  a 
house,  or  a  position  enabling  one  of  the  actors  to  overhear  others 
without  being  seen  himself. 

Although  thus  scantily  equipped  in  some  respects,  in  costumery 
the  early  stage  was  lavish  and  splendid.  "  The  Prologue  "  appeared 
in  a  long,  flaming,  velvet  robe,  made  after  the  pattern  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  all  the  other  actors  were  attired  in  the  richest  dress  of 
their  own  day.  Its  picturesqueness,  instead  of  marring,  heightened 
the  effect.  Bat  the  use  of  contemporary  costume  in  plays  whose 
action  was  supposed  to  take  place  in  Greece,  Rome,  or  Persia, 
naturally  led  to  amazing  absurdities,  such  as  arming  the  assassins 
of  Caesar  with  Spanish  rapiers,  or  furnishing  Carthaginian  senators 
with  watches.  Anachronisms,  however,  were  not  offensive  to  the 
uncritical  spectators  of  those  times.  Certain  attributes  were  asso- 
ciated with  supernatural  personages.  A  "  roobe  for  to  goo  invisi- 
bell "  is  one  of  the  items  in  an  old  list  of  properties ;  and  in  all 
probability  the  spectral  armor  of  the  Ghost  in  Hamlet  was  to  be 
found  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  ancient  theatres.  The  curtain  is  sup- 
posed to  have  opened  perpendicularly  in  the  middle ;  and  besides 
this  principal  curtain,  there  seem  to  have  been  others  occasionally 
drawn  so  as  to  divide  the  stage  into  several  apartments. 

The  foregoing  statements  concerning  the  early  theatre  show  how 
meagre  were  the  material  aids  on  which  the  dramatist  could  rely. 
That  very  poverty  of  the  theatre  was  one  of  the  conditions  of  the 
excellence  of  the  Elizabethan  dramatist.  He  could  not  depend 
upon  the  painter  of  scenes  for  any  interpretation  of  the  play,  and 
therefore  he  was  constrained  to  make  his  thought  vigorous  and  his 
language  vivid. 

The  performance  began  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  was  an- 
nounced  by  flourishes  of  a  trumpet.  The  prologue  was  generailj 


80  TJIE    ACTOR'S    SOCIAL    POSITION. 

declaimed  by  its  author,  who  was  arrayed  in  antique  costume.  Black 
drapery  hung  around  the  stage,  was  the  symbol  of  a  tragedy ; 
and  rushes  strewn  on  the  stage,  enabled  the  best  patrons  of  the 
company  to  sit  upon  the  floor.  '  Dancing  and  singing  took  place 
between  the  acts ;  and,  as  a  rule,  a  comic  ballad,  sung  by  a  clown 
with  accompaniment  of  tabor  and  pipe  and  farcical  dancing,  closed 
the  entertainment. 

The  social  position  of  an  actor  and  playwright,  even  at  the  end 
of  the  sixteenth  century,  was  not  enviable.  He  was  still  regarded 
by  many  as  scarcely  a  shade  removed  above  the  "  rogues  and 
vagabonds"  of  former  generations;  but  this  drawback  seems  to 
have  been  fully  compensated  for  by  extraordinary  profits.  That 
these  were  unusually  great  is  proved,  not  only  by  historical  evi- 
dence, such  as  the  frequent  allusions  made  by  the  preachers  and 
moralists  of  the  day  to  the  pride,  luxury,  and  magnificence  in  dress 
of  the  successful  performers,  but  also  by  the  rapidity  with  which 
many  of  them,  as  Shakespeare,  Burbadge,  and  Alleyn,  amassed 
considerable  fortunes. 

Notwithstanding  the  social  discredit  that  attached  to  the  actor's 
profession,  the  drama  had  reached  such  popularity,  and  the  employ- 
ment was  so  lucrative,  that  it  soon  became  the  common  resort  of 
irregular  genius  in  search  of  a  livelihood.  Indeed  nothing  is  more 
remarkable  than  the  marvellously  rapid  growth  of  this  department 
of  our  literature.  It  passed  from  infancy  to  maturity  in  a  single 
generation.  Twenty  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  first  rude 
tragedy,  the  theatre  entered  upon  the  most  glorious  period  of  its 
history,  bursting  forth  into  a  majesty  and  strength  without  parallel 
in  the  literature  of  any  country.  This  was  mainly  the  work  of  a 
small  band  of  poets,  whose  careers  all  began  about  the  same  time. 
They  were  most  of  them  men  of  liberal  education,  but  of  dissolute 
lives.  One  or  two  of  them  left  rural  homes  to  seek  their  fortunes 
in  London,  and  were  lured  by  the  prospect  of  swift  gain  into  the 
new  profession.  They  all  possessed  abilities  of  a  high  order.  One 
of  them,  William  Shakespeare,  is  the  giant  of  the  group,  beside 
whom  the  others  dwindle  into  comparative  insignificance.  These 
men,  George  Chapman,  John  Lyly,  George  Peele,  Robert  Greene, 
Christopher  Marlowe,  and  Thomas  Kyd,  are  often  spoken  of  as  the 
predecessors  of  Shakespeare ;  but  as  none  of  them  preceded  him  by 
more  than  a  year  or  two,  and  as  all  were  fellow-workers  with  him 


E  irmuiS-u.  81 

for  a  time,  it  seems  proper  to  style  them  the  contemporaries  of  hig 
early  literary  life. 

The  ca"eers  of  these  men  in  their  general  outlines  were  the  same. 
They  attached  themselves  as  dramatic  actors  and  poets  to  one  of 
the  numerous  companies,  and  after  a  short  apprenticeship  passed 
in  rewriting  and  rearranging  plays,  they  gradually  rose  to  original 
works,  written  either  alone  or  in  partnership  with  a  brother  play- 
wright. As  there  was  no  dramatic  copyright  at  this  time,  the 
playwrights  had  the  strongest  motive  for  taking  every  precaution 
that  their  pieces  should  not  be  printed,  publication  instantly  anni- 
hilating their  monopoly,  and  allowing  rival  companies  to  profit  by 
their  labors  ;  and  this  is  the  reason  why  so  few  of  the  dramas  of  this 
period,  in  spite  of  their  unequalled  merit  and  their  great  popu- 
larity, were  given  to  the  press  during  the  lives  of  their  authors.  It 
also  explains  the  singularly  careless  execution  of  such  copies  as 
were  printed,  these  having  been  published  in  many  cases  surrepti- 
tiously, and  contrary  to  the  wishes  and  interests  of  the  author. 
Only  the  briefest  mention  can  be  made  of  the  subordinate  members 
of  this  remarkable  group  of  writers. 

John  Lyly  (1553-1601  ?).  educated  at  Oxford,  a  man  of  classical 
culture,  composed  plays  for  the  court,  and  pageants.  His  writings 
exhibit  genius,  though  strongly  tinctured  with  a  peculiar  affecta- 
tion, with  which  he  infected  the  language  of  elegant  conversation, 
and  even  of  literature,  till  it  fell  under  the  ridicule  of  Shakespeare. 
This  pedantic,  superfine  use  of  language  is  known  as  Euphuism.* 
The  name  was  taken  from  the  title  of  one  of  Lyly's  works, 
"Euphues;  the  Anatomy  of  Wit."  Without  drinking  from  this 
fountain  of  affectation,  one  can  know  its  flavor  from  the  language 
of  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  in  Scott's  novel,  "The  Monastery." 

George  Peele  (1553-1598?),  like  Lyly,  had  received  a  liberal 
education  at  Oxford.  He  was  one  of  Shakespeare's  fellow-actors 
and  fellow-shareholders  in  the  Blackfriars  Theatre.  His  earliest 
work,  The  Arraignment  of  Paris,  was  printed  anonymously  in  1584. 
His  most  celebrated  dramatic  works  were  the  David  and  Bethsdbe, 
and  Absolom,  in  which  there  are  great  richness  and  beauty  of 
ge,  and  indications  of  a  high  order  of  pathetic  and  elevated 


*  "  To  this  day  every  man  who  has  anything  of  the  coxcomb  in  his  brain,  who 
desires  a  dress  for  his  thought  more  splendid  than  his  thought,  slides  unconsciously 
Into  Euphuism."—  .5".  P.  Whipple. 


82  GREECE     AND     M  A  11  L  0  W  E  . 

emotion.  His  Edward  7.  is  supposed  to  be  our  first  historical 
play. 

Thomas  Eyd,  the  "  sporting  Kyd  "  of  Ben  Jonson,  was  possibly 
the  author  of  the  famous  play  called  Jeronimo,  to  which,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  many  recastings  it  received,  so  many  authors  have 
been  ascribed.  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  which  is  a  continuation  of 
Teronimo,  was  undoubtedly  his. 

Robert  Greene  (1560-1592)  was  a  Cambridge  man,  and  the 
author  of  a  multitude  of  tracts  and  pamphlets  on  miscellaneous 
subjects.  Sometimes  they  were  tales,  often  translated  or  expanded 
from  the  Italian  novelists ;  sometimes  amusing  exposures  of  the 
various  arts  of  cony-catching,  t.  e.  cheating  and  swindling,  practised 
at  that  time  in  London,  and  in  which,  it  is  to  be  feared,  Greene  was 
personally  not  unversed;  sometimes  moral  confessions,  like  the 
OroatswortJi  of  Wit,  or  Never  too  Late,  purporting  to  be  a  warning 
to  others  against  the  consequences  of  unbridled  passions.  In  this 
group  of  dramatists  his  place  is  next  below  Marlowe. 

But  by  far  the  most  powerful  genius  among  them  was  Christo- 
pher Marlowe  (1564-1593).  On  leaving  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge he  joined  a  troop  of  actors,  among  whom  he  was  remarkable 
for  vice  and  debauchery ;  and  he  was  strongly  suspected  by  his 
contemporaries  of  being  an  atheist.  His  career  was  as  short  as  it 
was  disgraceful :  he  was  stabbed  in  the  head  with  his  own  dagger, 
which  he  had  drawn  in  a  quarrel  with  an  antagonist,  and  he  died  of 
this  wound  at  the  age  of  thirty.  His  works  are  not  numerous ; 
but  they  are  strongly  distinguished  from  those  of  preceding  and 
contemporary  dramatists  by  an  air  of  astonishing  energy  and  eleva- 
tion— an  elevation,  it  is  true,  which  is  sometimes  exaggerated,  and 
an  energy  which  occasionally  degenerates  into  extravagance.  lie 
established  the  use  of  blank  verse  in  the  English  drama.  His 
first  work  was  the  tragedy  of  Tamburlaine  the  Great.  The  decla- 
mation in  this  piece,  though  sometimes  bombastic,  led  Ben  Jonson 
to  speak  of  "  Marlowe's  mighty  line."  But  in  spite  of  the  bombast, 
the  piece  contains  many  passages  of  great  power  and  beauty. 
Marlowe's  best  work  is  the  drama  of  Faustus  (71),  founded 
upon  the  same  popular  legend  which  Goethe  adopted  as  the 
groundwork  of  his  tragedy ;  and  though  the  German  poet's  work 
is  on  the  whole  vastly  superior,  there  is  certainly  no  passage  in 
the  tragedy  of  Goethe  in  which  terror,  despair,  and  remorse  art? 


MAKLOWE     AND     CHAPMAN.  83 

painted  with  such  a  powerful  hand  as  in  the  great  closing  scene  of 
Marlowe's  piece.  The  tragedy  of  the  Jew  of  Malta,  though  inferior 
to  Faustus,  is  characterized  by  similar  merits  and  defects.  The 
hero,  Barabas,  is  the  type  of  the  Jew  as  he  appeared  to  the  rude 
and  bigoted  imaginations  of  the  fifteenth  century — a  monster  half- 
terrific,  half-ridiculous,  impossibly  rich,  inconceivably  bloodthirsty, 
cunning,  and  revengeful,  the  bugbear  of  an  age  of  ignorance  and 
persecution.  The  intense  expression  of  his  rage,  however,  his  tri- 
umph and  his  despair,  give  occasion  for  many  noble  bursts  of  Mar- 
lowe's powerful  declamation.  The  tragedy  of  Edward  II.  (7O), 
which  was  the  last  of  this  great  poet's  works,  shows  that  in  some 
departments  of  his  art,  and  particularly  that  of  moving  terror  and 
pity,  he  might,  had  he  lived,  have  become  no  insignificant  rival  of 
Shakespeare  himself. 

Marlowe  is  honorably  known  in  other  departments  of  poetry 
also.  His  charming  poem  of  The  Passionate  Shepherd  had  the  rare 
distinction  of  being  quoted  by  Shakespeare,  and  of  being  answered 
in  "  The  Nymph's  Reply,"  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

The  merits  of  GEOKGE  CHAPMAJST  (1557-1634)  as  a  translator 
have  so  entirely  eclipsed  his  dramatic  fame,  that  but  few  of  his 
plays  are  now  ever  referred  to.  His  Bussy  d'Amboise  is  perhaps 
the  best  known  of  them. 

Richard  Grant  White's  admirable  "Account  of  the  Rise  and  Progress  of  th« 
English  Drama  to  the  time  of  Shakespeare,"  and  Rev.  H.  N.  Hudson's  "  Historical 
Sketch  of  the  Origin  and  Growth  of  the  Drama  in  England,"  are  the  finest  dis 
cussions  to  be  found  by  the  student  upon  the  topic  treated  of  in  this  chapter. 


CHAPTER     IX. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE. 

"  I  loved  the  man  and  do  honor  his  memory,  on  this  side  idolatry,  as  much  aa 
cay.  He  was  indeed  honest  and  of  an  open  and  free  nature."— Ben  Jonson. 

"  And  he,  the  man  whom  Nature  selfe  had  made 
To  mock  herselfe  and  Truth  to  imitate." — Spenser. 

"  Sweetest  Shakespeare,  Fancy's  child." — Milton. 

'•But  Shakespeare's  magic  could  not  copied  be, 
Within  that  circle  none  durst  walk  but  he." — Drydcn. 

"  I  hold  a  perfect  comedy  to  be  the  perfection  of  human  composition ;  and  I 
firmly  believe  that  fifty  Iliads  and  Aeneids  could  be  written  sooner  than  such  a 
character  as  Falstaffs."— Horace  Walpole. 

"  I  am  always  happy  to  meet  persons  who  perceive  the  transcendent  superiority 
of  Shakespeare  over  ail  other  writers."—  B.  W.  Emerson. 

"I  cannot  account  for  Shakespeare's  low  estimate  of  his  own  writings,  except 
from  the  sublimity,  the  super-humanity  of  his  genius."—  Wordsworth. 

14  Shakespeare  is  of  no  age.  He  speaks  a  language  which  thrills  in  onr  blood  in 
epite  of  the  separation  of  two  hundred  years.  His  thoughts,  passions,  feelings, 
strains  of  fancy,  all  are  of  this  day  as  they  were  of  his  own  ;  and  his  genius  may  be 
contemporary  with  the  mind  of  every  generation  for  a  thousand  years  to  come." — 
J'rof.  Wilson,. 

"More  full  of  wisdom  and  ridicule  and  sagacity  than  all  the  moralists  and 
satirists  that  ever  existed,  Shakespeare  is  more  mild,  airy  and  inventive,  and 
more  pathetic  and  fantastic,  than  all  the  poets  of  all  regions  and  ages  of  the  world, 
and  has  all  those  elements  so  happily  mixed  up  in  him,  and  bears  his  high  faculties 
BO  temperately,  that  the  most  severe  reader  cannot  complain  of  him  for  want  of 
strength  or  of  reason,  nor  the  most  sensitive,  for  defect  of  ornament  or  ingenuity." 
— Lord  Jeffrey. 

"  The  name  of  Shakespeare  is  the  greatest  in  onr  literature— it  is  the  greatest  in 
all  literature.  No  man  ever  came  near  him  in  the  creative  powers  of  the  mind; 
no  man  ever  had  such  strength  at  once,  and  such  variety  of  imagination.  Coleridge 
has  most  felicitously  applied  to  him  a  Greek  epithet,  given  before  to  I  know  not 
whom,  certainly  none  so  deserving  of  it, — nvpiovovs,  the  thovsand-foultd  Shake- 
H>eare."— HeUam. 


s  H  A  K  \:  &  p  j;  A  11  E  .  85 

"  I  think  most  readers  of  Shakespeare  sometimes  find  themselves  thrown  into 
exalted  mental  conditions  like  those  produced  by  music.  Then  they  may  drop  the 
book  to  pass  at  once  into  the  region  of  thoughts  without  words."  —  0.  W.  Holmes. 

"  Whatever  other  learning  he  wanted,  he  was  master  of  two  books  unknown  to 
many  profound  readers,  though  books  which  the  last  conflagration  alone  can 
destroy,—  I  mean  the  Book  of  Nature  and  that  of  Man."  —  Edward  Young. 


authentic  biography  of  the  most  famous  writer  in 
-L    English  literature  is  very  brief.     The  following  facts 
can  be  positively  stated  about  William  Shakespeare: 
John  and  Mary  Shakespeare   were   his  parents.     He   was 

christened  in  the  little  town  of  Stratford-on-Avon, 
1564.]  in  Warwickshire,  England,  the  2Gth  day  of  April, 

1584.  He  was  married  when  eighteen  years  old. 
Three  years  after  his  marriage  he  Avent  from  Stratford  to 
London.  He  was  an  actor,  and  one  of  the  proprietors  of 
the  Globe  Theatre.  Ben  Jonson  was  his  intimate  acquaint- 
ance. His  last  years  were  spent  in  his  native  place,  where 
he  was  one  of  the  influential  citizens.  He  was  once  a 
plaintiff  in  a  suit-at-law.  He  died  on  the  23d  day  of 
April,  1616. 

Tradition  tells  that  he  was  a  man  of  fine  form  and 
features,  that  he  was  sometimes  too  convivial,  that  he  was 
beloved  by  nearly  all  who  knew  him,  that  he  had  the  per- 
sonal acquaintance  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.  His  father, 
John  Shakespeare,  probably  a  glover,  had  married  an  heiress, 
Mary  Arden  or  Arderne,  whose  family  had  figured  in  the 
courtly  and  warlike  annals  of  preceding  reigns  ;  and  thus 
in  the  veins  of  the  great  poet  of  humanity  ran  blood  derived 
from  both  the  aristocratic  and  popular  portions  of  the  com- 
munity. 

That  John  Shakespeare  had  been  in  flourishing  circum- 
stances is  proved  by  his  having  long  been  one  of  the  Alder- 
men of  Stratford,  and  by  his  having  served  in  the  office  of 
Bailiff  or  Mayor  in  1569.  Mary  Arderne  had  brought  her 
husband  a  small  property.  This  acquisition  seems  to  have 
tempted  him  to  engage,  without  experience,  in  agricultural 


86  SHAKESPEARE. 

pursuits,  which  ended  disastrously  in  his  being  obliged  at 
different  times  to  mortgage  and  sell,  not  only  his  farm,  but 
even  one  of  the  houses  in  Stratford  of  which  he  had  been 
owner.  He  at  last  retained  nothing  save  that  small,  but 
uow  venerable  dwelling,  consecrated  to  all  future  ages  by 
being  the  spot  where  the  greatest  of  poets  was  born.  His 
distresses  appear  to  have  become  severe  in  1579 ;  and  he 
was  unable  to  extricate  himself  from  his  embarrassments, 
until  his  son  had  gained  a  position  of  competence,  and  even 
of  affluence. 

That  William  Shakespeare  could  have  derived  even  the 
most  elementary  instruction  from  his  parents  is  impossible ; 
for  neither  of  them  could  write — an  accomplishment,  however, 
which,  it  should  be  remarked,  was  comparatively  rare  in 
Elizabeth's  reign.  But  there  existed  at  that  time,  and  there 
exists  at  the  present  day,  in  the  borough  of  Stratford,  an 
endowed  "free  grammar-school;"  and  it  is  inconceivable 
that  John  Shakespeare,  Alderman  and  Past  Bailiff  as  he 
was,  should  have  neglected  the  opportunity  for  educating 
his  son.  This  opportunity,  together  with  the  extensive 
though  irregular  reading  of  which  his  works  give  evidence, 
and  with  the  vague  tradition  that  he  had  been ''in  his  youth 
a  schoolmaster  in  the  country,"  renders  it  more  than  prob- 
able that  the  poet  enjoyed  a  degree  .of  culture  higher  than 
some  would  give  him  credit  for.  It  has  been  reasonably 
inferred  that  during  his  early  years  he  must  have  been  a 
student  in  the  office  of  a  lawyer;  for  throughout  his  works 
he  shows  extraordinary  knowledge  of  the  technical  language 
of  the  law. 

The  most  familiar  of  the  legends  concerning  him  repre- 
sents his  youth  as  wild  and  irregular,  and  tells  of  a  deer- 
stealing  expedition  in  company  with  riotous  young  fellows, 
to  Sir  Thomas  Lucy's  park  at  Charlcote,  near  Stratford. 
According  to  the  story  Shakespeare  was  seized,  brought 
before  the  indignant  justice  of  the  peace  and  flogged.  For 


SHAKESPEARE.  87 

this  indignity  he  revenged  himself  by  writing  a  satiric  ballad 
and  attaching  it  to  the  gates  of  Charlcote.*  Then  the  wrath 
of  the  Knight  blazed  so  high  that  Shakespeare  sought  refuge 
in  London,  where  he  earned  his  livelihood  by  holding  horses 
at  the  doors  of  the  theatres,  until  his  wit  attracted  the  notice 
of  the  actors  and  gained  him  a  position  where  by  degrees  he 
became  a  celebrated  actor  and  author.  We  must  discredit 
one  part  of  the  legend,  inasmuch  as  boats — not  horses-— 
furnished  conveyance  across  the  Thames  from  the  city  to  the 
theatres.  But  even  though  the  story  about  the  deer-stealing 
may  have  a  foundation  of  truth,  Shakespeare's  departure 
from  Stratford  and  his  entrance  into  theatrical  life  in  London 
may  be  explained  in  a  different  and  less  improbable  manner. 
He  was  then  twenty-two  years  of  age.  He  had  beenv 
married  three  years  to  Anne  Hathaway,  a  young  woman 
seven  years  his  senior,  f  His  three  children  had  been  born. 
It  was  necessary  to  provide  means  for  the  support  of  his 
family,  and  that,  too,  without  delay;  for  his  fathers  wealth 
was  nearly  gone.  London  was  the  resort  for  such  a  needy 
adventurer  as  he  in  search  of  fortune ;  and  the  theatrical 
profession,  with  its  ready  reward  for  the  successful  actor,  was 
the  most  alluring  calling  for  him.  His  native  taste  for  the 
drama  must  have  been  attracted  to  that  calling  before  this 
time,  for  troops  of  actors  had  made  frequent  visits  to  Strat- 
ford; moreover  the  greatest  tragic  actor  of  the  day,  llichard 
Burbadge,  was  a  Warwickshire  man,  and  Thomas  Greene,  a 

*  For  a  discussion  of  this  legend,  and  for  a  stanza  of  the  ballad,  see  White's 
Memoirs  of  Shakespeare,  p.  xxxvi.,  seq. 

t  There  are  several  facts  which  seem  to  indicate  that  the  married  life  of  the  poet 
was  not  brightened  by  love.  Bitter  allusions  to  marriages  like  his  own  occur  in 
his  works  ;  during  the  long  period  of  his  residence  in  London,  his  wife  did  not  live 
with  him  ;  and  in  his  will  he  leaves  her  only  his  "  second-best  bed  with  furniture." 
The  significance  of  the  slighting  bequest  is  diminished  by  the  fact  that  as  his  prop- 
erty was  chiefly  in  land  her  legal  right  to  one-third  gave  her  a  large  estate.  But,  on 
the  other  hand,  several  most  tenderly  loving  passages  ia  his  poems  seem  unin- 
telligible unless  interpreted  as  addressed  to  her.  For  a  discussion  of  the  respective 
sides  of  this  question  see  White's  Memoirs  of  Shakespeare,  p.  xxix.,  seq.,  and  Hud- 
son'* Life  of  Shakespeare  p.  19,  seq. 


88  SHAKESPEARE. 

distinguished  member  of  the  troop  of  the  Globe,  then  the 
first  theatre  in  London,  was  a  native  of  Stratford.  And  so,  as 
the  companies  of  actors  were  always  ready  to  enlist  men  of 
talent,  it  happened  that  when  Shakespeare  arrived  in  London 
he  naturally  entered  the  service  of  one  of  those  companies. 
Like  other  young  men  of  that  time,  he  made  himself  useful 
to  his  company  both  as  an  actor  and  as  a  re-writer  of  dra- 
matic pieces  ;  and  his  early  professional  career  differed  in  no 
respect  from  that  of  Marlowe  and  others,  save  in  the  indus- 
try and  success  with  which  he  pursued  it,  and  in  the  pru- 
dence with  which  he  accumulated  wealth.  By  adapting 
old  plays  to  the  demands  of  his  theatre  he  acquired  that 
masterly  knowledge  of  stage-effect,  and  discovered  the 
inimitable  dramatic  genius  which  enabled  him  to  write  the 
grandest  dramas  in  the  literature  of  the  world.  His  the- 
atrical career  continued  from  1586  until  1611  (?),  a  period 
of  twenty-five  years,  including  the  vivacity  and  charm  of  his 
youth  and  the  dignity  and  glory  of  his  manhood. 

The  dramatic  company  to  which  Shakespeare  belonged 
was  the  most  respectable  and  the  most  prosperous  of  that 
time.  By  carefully  avoiding  political  allusions  and  by 
gaining  the  patronage  of  influential  men,  it  secured  unusual 
freedom  from  the  interference  of  the  authorities  of  the  city. 
In  this  company  Shakespeare  reached  a  high  position.  To 
liis  good  sense,  prudence,  and  knowledge  of  the  world  its 
success  was  chiefly  due ;  for  no  sooner  had  he  retired  from 
the  theatre  than  repeated  causes  of  complaint  arose,  and 
severe  penalties  were  inflicted  by  the  authorities  upon  his 
former  comrades. 

Shakespeare  quickly  rose  to  such  importance  in  his  pro- 
fession as  to  call  down  upon  him  the  attacks  of  disappointed 
rivals;  for,  in  1592,  Greene  makes  bitter  allusion  to  his 
name,  accuses  him  of  plagiarism,  and  plainly  shows  that 
envy  dictated  the  attack.  The  scurrilous  pamphlet  con- 


b  IL  A  K  E  S  P  E  A  R  E  .  89 

taining  this  accusation  was  published  after  Greene's  death, 
and  evidently  provoked  criticism  by  its  meanness.  Chettle, 
its  editor,  promptly  published  an  apology  in  which  he-  says 
of  Shakespeare, — "I  am  as  sorry  as  if  the  originall  fault  had 
beene  my  fault,  because  myself  have  scene  his  demeanor 
no  less  civill  than  he  exclent  in  the  quality  he  professes: 
besides,  divers  of  worship  have  reported  his  uprightneS  of 
dealing  which  argues  his  honesty,  and  his  facetious  [felici- 
tous] grace  in  writing  that  approves  his  art." 

That  he  was  profoundly  acquainted  with  his  art  is  clear 
from  the  inimitable  "  directions  to  the  players  "  put  into  the 
mouth  of  Hamlet,  which,  in  incredibly  few  words,  contain 
its  whole  system.  We  Irave  good  authority  for  supposing 
that  he  acted  the  Ghost  in  his  tragedy  of ~  Hamlet  (81),  the 
graceful  and  touching  character  of  Adam,  the  faithful  old 
servant,  in  his  As  You  Like  It  (72),  the  deeply  pathetic 
impersonation  of  grief  and  despair  in  the  popular  tragedy  of 
Hieronymo,  and  the  sensible  citizen,  Old  Knowell,  in  Ben 
Jonson's  Every  Man  In  His  Humor.  A  contemporary  refer- 
ence ascribes  to  him  some  degree  of  excellence  in  the  per- 
formance of  kingly  characters.  But  the  first  masterly  actor 
of  the  great  tragic  characters,  Richard  III.,  Hamlet,  Othello, 
and  the  others,  was  Shakespeare's  comrade,  Richard  Bur- 
(badge. 

Shakespeare's  reputation  grew  apace.  Six  years  after 
his  arrival  in  London,  he  had  won  his  way  to  the  foremost 
rank  of  literary  men.  The  learned  and  the  brilliant  had 
been  his  competitors,  and  yet  he  had  outstripped  them 
all.  He  was  already  wielding  potent  influence.  Riches 
were  flowing  into  his  hands.  The  gifted  and  the  noble  ap- 
plauded him,  and  sought  his  society.  The  young  Earl  of 
Southampton  is  said  to  have  expressed  his  admiration  for 
the  worth  and  the  genius  of  the  poet  by  making  him  the 
princely  gift  of  a  thousand  pounds.  Through  succeeding 
years  his  prosperity  continued.  In  1597,  at  the  age  of 


90  SHAKESPEARE. 

thirty-three,  he  purchased  "  Xew  Place,"  the  finest  house  in 
Stratford,  making  it  a  home  for  his  family,  and  a  refuge 
for  his  parents.*  In  1G02  he  purchased  one  hundred  and 
seven  acres  of  land,  and  at  about  the  same  time  he  invested 
four  hundred  and  forty  pounds  in  the  tithes  of  Stratford. 
In  1611  (?)  he  sold  his  interest  in  the  Globe  Theatre,  left 
London,  and  withdrew  to  the  quietude  of  his  home.  There 
five  years  were  spent  in  a  leisure  that  must  have  been  a 
strange  contrast  to  the  busy,  thronging  cares  that  had 
attended  his  professional  life.  An  active  interest  in  the 
welfare  of  his  town,  an  occasional  visit  to  London,  a  gen- 
erous entertainment  of  his  friends,  and  the  composition  of 

one  or  two  of  his  grandest  dramas,  seem  to  have 
1616.]  occupied  these  years  of  retirement.  He  died  on 

the  23d  of  April,  1G16,  probably  on  the  anniversary 
of  his  birthday,  having  just  completed  his  fifty-second  year. 
There  is  a  tradition  that  he  rose  from  a  sick-bed  to  entertain 
Ben  Jonson  and  Dray  ton,  and  that  he  brought  on  a  relapse 
by  '''drinking  too  hard."  He  was  buried  in  the  parish 
church  of  Stratford.  In  the  wall,  above  his  grave,  a  monu- 
ment is  erected,  containing  his  bust.f  This  bust  and  the 
coarse  engraving  by  Droeshout,  prefixed  to  the  first  folio 
edition  of  his  works  published  in  1G23,  are  the  most  trust- 
worthy of  his  portraits.  In  eulogistic  verses  Ben  Jonson 
vouches  for  the  faithfulness  of  Droeshout's  picture. 

But  few  relics  of  Shakespeare  still  remain.     The  house 
of  New  Place  has  long  been  destroyed ;  but  the  garden  in 

*  It  was  Shakespeare's  ambition  to  gain  the  rank  and  title  of "  gentleman ;" 
and,  therefore,  at  about  the  time  when  he  bought  New  Place  he  solicited  a  coat  of 
arms  for  his  father.  His  own  defamed  profession  would  have  been  an  obstacle  in 
the  way  of  his  securing  the  honor ;  but  he  succeeded  in  obtaining  it  for  his  father, 
and  eo  gained  it  for  himself  by  inheritance.  He  .was  the  last  to  bear  the  family 
title ;  for  his  only  son,  Hamnet,  died  when  eleven  years  of  age. 

t  The  pavement  over  his  grave  bears  the  following  startling  inscription : 
"Good  friend,  for  lesvs  sake  forbeare, 
To  digg  the  dvst  encloased  hcarc  : 
Bleste  be  ye  man  yt  spares  thes  stones, 
And  cvrst  be  he  yt  moves  my  bones.11 


SHAKESPEARE.  91 

which  it  stood,  and,  in  another  street,  the  house  where  the 
poet  was  born,  are  preserved.  His  will,  which  was  made  a 
month  before  his  death,  testifies  to  his  kind  and  affectionate 
disposition.  To  each  of  his  old  comrades  and  "  fellows  "  he 
leaves  some  token  of  regard,  generally  "  twenty-six  shillings 
and  eight  pence  apiece,  to  buy  them  rings."  The  three  auto- 
graphs attached  to  this  document,  and  one  or  two  more',  are 
the  only  specimens  of  his  writing  that  have  been  preserved.* 

Shakespeare's  first  original  poems  were  not  dramatic. 
He  was  the  creator  of  a  peculiar  species  of  narrative  compo- 
sition, which  achieved  an  immediate  and  immense  popu- 
larity. \Venus  and  Adonis}  which,  in  his  dedication  to  Lord 
Southampton,  he  calls  "file  first  heir  of  his  invention," 
was  published  in  1593.  It  is  probable  that  this  poem — 
exhibiting  all  the  luxuriant  sweetness,  the  voluptuous  ten- 
derness, of  a  youthful  genius — was  conceived,  if  not  com- 
posed, at  Stratford.  It  was  re-issued  in  five  several  editions 
between  the  years  1593  and  1602;  while  the  Rape  of 
Lucrece,  during  nearly  the  same  time,  appeared  in  three. 
When  he  began  to  be  conscious  of  his  vast  powers,  and 
abandoned  the  adaptation  of  old  plays  for  original  dramatic 
composition,  it  is  quite  impossible  to  ascertain ;  for  some  of 
the  works  which  bear  the  strongest  impress  of  his  genius 
were  undoubtedly  based  upon  earlier  productions.  As 
examples  of  this  may  be  mentioned  Hamlet  (81,  82), 
Henry  V.,  and  King  John  (77). 

There  are  internal  evidences  which  indicate  his  earlier 
and  his  later  plays,  but  nothing  from  which  a  chronological 
list  could  be  made.  To  obtain  such  a  list,  many  acute  inves- 
tigators have  exercised  their  ingenuity,  and  have  found 

*  "  The  manner  in  which  the  name  is  spelled  in  the  old  records  varies  almost  to 
the  extreme  capacity  of  various  letters  to  produce  a  sound  approximating  to  that  of 
the  name  as  we  pronounce  it.  *  *  *  *  But  Shakespeare  himself,  and  his  careful 
friend  Ben  Jonson,  when  they  printed  the  name,  epeiled  it  Shake- spear •«,  the  hyphen 
being  often  used ;  and  in  this  form  it  is  found  in  almost  overy  book  of  their  time 
in  which  it  appeared."—  White  s  Memoirs  qf  WiMam  Sfiakespsa're,  p.  lv.,  note. 


92  SHAKESPEAKE. 

startling  discrepancies  in  their  results.  No  reliance  can  be 
placed  upon  the  order  of  the  pieces  given  in  the  first  edi- 
tion— the  folio  published  in  1653  by  Heminge  and  Condcll, 
Shakespeare's  friends.  The  most  superficial  examination  is 
sufficient  to  prove  that,  in  spite  of  the  assurances  of  the 
editors  as  to  its  having  been  based  upon  the  "  papers "  of 
their  colleague,  this  publication  must  be  regarded  as  little 
better  than  a  hasty  speculation,  entered  into  for  the  sake 
of  profit  and  without  much  regard  to  the  literary  reputation 
of  the  great  poet.  And  though  the  system  of  grouping 
plays  as  Tragedies,  Comedies,  and  Histories,  has  at  all  events 
the  advantage  of  clearness,  and  is  that  upon  which  most 
editions  of  the  dramas  are  based,  it  also  is  open  to  ob- 
jection. Some  of  the  pieces  indeed  (such  as  Othello,  Lear, 
Hamlet]  (81,  82)  are  distinctly  tragedies,  and  others  (As 
You  Like  It  (72)  or  Twelfth  Ni<jht]  are  as  decidedly 
comedies;  but  many  more  might,  from  their  tones  and 
incidents,  be  ranged  under  either  head.  Indeed,  in  all,  the 
tragic  and  comic  elements  are  more  or  less  intermixed, 
and  it  is  this  blending  of  the  two  in  the  same  piece  which 
constitutes  the  distinguishing  trait  of  the  English  drama 
in  the  Shakespearean  age,  and  gives  it  peculiar  excellence 
and  title  to  superiority  over  the  national  drama  of  every 
other  country. 

For  us,  the  most  useful  mode  of  classification  is  based 
upon  the  sources  from  which  Shakespeare  drew  the 
materials  for  his  dramas.  Those  sources  are  historical  and 
fictional.  The  historical  plays  were  intended  to  depict 
events  of  recent  reigns  in  England.  Holinshed's  Chronicles 
furnished  much  of  the  material  for  them,  beginning  with 
King  John  (77),  and  ending  with  Henry  VIII.  (79,  8O). 
They  are  grand  panoramas  of  national  glory  or  national 
distress.  Richard  II.,  Richard  III.  (78),  the  two  une- 
qualled dramas  on  the  reign  of  Henry  IV.  and  that  chant 
of  patriotic  triumph,  Henry  V..  illustrate  his  power  in 


S  IT  A  K  E  S  T  E  ARE.  93 

representing  epochs  in  the  life  of  his  nation.  Shakespeare, 
though  not  the  inventor,  was  the  most  prolific  author  of 
such  historical  dramas. 

"Tn  addition  to  the  plays  founded  on  authentic  facts  of 
history,  he  wrote  many  which  had  a  semi-historical  char- 
acter, and  drew  their  stories  from  the  legendary  lore  of 
various  countries ;  thus  Hamlet  was  taken  from  a  Danish 
chronicler ;  Macbeth,  Lear  and  Ci/mbeline  refer  to  more  or 
less  fabulous  legends  of  Scottish  and  British  history ;  while 
Coriolanus,  Julius  Ccesar  and  Antony  and  Cleopatra  are 

derived  from  ancient  Koman  annals. 
•  _  • 

Nineteen  of  his  dramas  are  based  upo'D.  fief  ion.  Of  these 
a  large  majority  can  be  traced  to  the  Italian  novelists  and 
their  imitators,  who  supplied  the  light  literature  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  The  short  tales  of  those  writers  were  most 
singularly  adapted  to  furnish  an  appropriate  groundwork 
for  the  poet's  humorous  or  pathetic  actions.  They  were 
exceedingly  short.  They  depended  for  their  popularity 
upon  amusing  and  surprising  incidents;  and  the  playwright, 
therefore,  enjoyed  full  liberty  for  the  exercise  of  his  peculiar 
talent  of  portraying  human  character,  having  ready  to  his 
hand  a  series  of  striking  events  which  he  could  compress  or 
expand  as  best  suited  his  purpose.  In  no  instance  has 
Shakespeare  taken  the  trouble  of  inventing  a  plot  for  himself. 
Appropriating  without  hesitation  materials  already  pre- 
pared, he  directed  all  his  energies  to  that  department  in 
which  he  shines  unrivalled, — the  portrayal  of  human  nature 
and  human  passion.  We  are  not,  however,  to  infer  that  the 
poet  necessarily  consulted  the  tales  in  the  original  language. 
A  careful  examination  of  his  works  seems  to  prove  that  lie 
has  rarely  made  use  of  any  ancient  or  foreign  literature  not 
then  existing  in  English  translations;  a  fact  which  lends 
some  corroboration  to  the  well-known  statement  of  Ben 
Jonson  that  he  had  "  small  Latin  and  less  Greek." 


04  S  It  A  K  E  S  P  E  A  R  E  JS     PLAYS. 

A  Classification  of  Shakespeare's  Plays,  the  Probable  Dates  of  their  Composition,  and 

tlie  Sources  whence  the  Materials  were  Derived. 

I.— HISTORICAL. 


PLATS. 

PROBABLE 
DATE  OF 
COMPOSITION. 

SOURCES  FROM  WHICH    MATERIALS    WERE 
DERITED. 

Henrv  VI  ,  Part  I... 

••  ) 

(Old  pi  ay,  entitled  Tlie  Contention  between 
the  Famous  Houses  of  York  and  Lan- 
caster ;   and   the    True    Tragedy  of 
Kichard.  Duke  of  Ywk. 
Holinshed's  Chronicles. 
The  Chronicles  of  Hall  and  of  Holinghed. 
An  older  play. 

j  An  old  play,  entitled  Ttie  Famous  Vic- 
1     lories  of  King  Henry  V. 

j  The  Chronicles  of  Hall  and  of  Holinshed, 
I     and  Fox'  s  Book  of  Mai  tyrs. 

"  "     "        "     11 

.      >-    1590-91 

"        "        "in 

Richard  n... 

1594-5 

III.  (78)  

Kin"'  John  (77) 

1596 

Heurv-  IV..  Part  I.. 

..  )     1596 

••  "      "      '•      II  

.  .     -    1597 

Henry  V  

.      )     1599 

Henry  VUI.  (79,  80).... 

.....    1613 

JZT    n.—  SEMI-HISTORICAL,  OR  LEGENDARY. 

Titus  Andronicns  

1587-9 

Probably  an  older  play. 
I  The    Chronicle  of  "Saxo-Grammaticns, 
I     and  an  older  play. 
Ilolinfhed  and  older  p!;:y?. 
Holinshed's  Chronicles  of  Scotland. 

North's  Translation  of  Plutarch's  Lives. 
Boccaccio  and  Holinshed. 

Hamlet  (81,  82)  

1600 

Kin°'Lear  

,.   1605 

Macbeth  (8  4,  8.5)...  . 

1605 

.Tnliqa  Caesqr  (83)  
Antony  and  Cleopatra  
Coriolanus  

.  .  .  )    16C6-8 
...   -    1606-3 
»     1609-11 

Cymbeline  

....     1603-11 

in.— FICTIONAL. 


Love's  Labour's  Lost 

{Crimp-fly  of  F^prsJ 

The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona 

A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream 

i  7.5.  76.  87) ., 

(The  Mef-hnnt  of  \^\P 
Tlomeo i  and  Juliet  ...  ... 

Much  Ado  about  Nothing 

Twelfth-Night 

A-  You  Like  It  (72,  73) 

The  Taming  of  the  Shrew 

Pericles 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor 

Mi-risiire  for  Measure 

All's  Well  that  Ends  Well 

Tiruon  of  Athens. . . 


1588-9      Unknown  ;  probably  of  French  origin. 
1589         The  Mencf.chnd  of  Plautus. 
1589-90    Unknown. 


Troilns  and  Cressida. 


Othello 

•The  Winter' s xTale. 
iTUe  Tempes  6). 


1594 
1694 

1596 

1593-9 

1599 

1599 

1601 

1602 
1603 

1603-4 
1604 

1605-7 
1606-8 

1609-11 
1611 

1611 


11  Pecorone,  an  Italian  tale. 
Paynter's  Palace  of  Pleasure. 
An  Italian  novel. 
An  Italian  novel,  by  Bandello. 
Lodge's  Eosalynde. 
An  older  play. 

j  Gower's   Confessio  Amnntis,  and  The 
1     Pattemc  ofPainfutt  Adventures. 
Unknown. 

Cinthio's  Hecatomithi. 
(  Paynter'?  l>,:i(ir-  if  Pleasure,  translated 
"j     from  Boccaccio. 

j  Plutarch,  Lucian,  and    The  Palace   of 
I     fjleasvre. 

\  Chaucer  and  Cnxton's  EecuytU  of  the 
1     HistoryfJi  of  Troy. 
Cinthio's  Hecatomithi. 
Greene's  I'andosto  ;  The  Triumph  of  Time. 
Unknown. 


SHAKESPEAKE.  95 

From  this  classification  it  will  be  seen  that  many  of 
these  plays  were  based  upon  preceding  dramatic  works.  A 
few  of  the  more  ancient  pieces  themselves  are  preserved, 
exhibiting  different  degrees  of  imperfection  and  barbarism. 
In  one  or  two  cases  we  have  more  than  one  edition  of  the 
same  play  in  its  different  stages  towards  complete  perfection 
under  the  hand  of  Shakespeare.  Hamlet  is  the  most  notable 
instance.  Some  of  these  thirty-seven  plays  show  evident 
marks  of  an  inferior  hand.  The  three  parts  of  Henry  VI. 
were  in  all  probability  older  dramas,  retouched  and  vivified 
here  and  there  with  Shakespeare's  inimitable  strokes  of 
nature  and  poetic  fancy.  So,  too,  the  last  of  the  English 
historical  plays,  Henry  VIII.  (79,  8O),  bears  many  traces 
of  having  been  in  part  composed  by  a  different  author ;  in  the 
diction,  the  turn  of  thought,  and  in  the  peculiar  structure 
of  the  verss,  there  are  indications  that  in  its  composition 
Shakespeare  was  associated  with  another  poet.  Such  literary 
partnership  was  in  vogue  in  that  age. 

On  reading  Shakespeare's  historical  dramas  the  first 
impression  is  of  the  amazing  apprehension  and  ready  delinea- 
tion of  the  peculiarities  of  the  age  and  country  which  the 
poet  reproduces.  He  gave  an  intense  humanity,  a  rsality,  to 
every  character  in  the  play.  From  the  most  prominent 
down  to  the  most  obscure,  each  one  has  a  distinct  individu- 
ality,— true  at  the  same  time  to  that  individuality,  to  his 
nation,  and  to  the  universal  man.  There  may  be,  here  and 
there,  anachronisms,  but  they  never  affect  the  truthfulness 
of  the  poet's  representation  of  human  nature.  A  hero  of 
the  Trojan  AVar  may  quote  Aristotle,  or  Cresar's  Eomans 
may  wield  the  Spanish  rapier  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  but 
the  language  and  the  thought  are  true  to  the  speaker's  age 
and  nation.  Even  the  influence  of  climate  is  not  forgotten 
in  his  creations.  Take  the  characters  of  Ophelia  and  Juliet 
as  types  of  the  woman  of  the  North  and  the  woman  of  the 
South.  Both  are  in  love.  As  you  read  through  the  pages 


06  S  II  A  K  i:  S  1'  E  A  R  E  . 

on  which  Ophelia  lives,  you  find  yourself  communing  with 
an  honest  woman,  whose  sincerity,  and  constancy,  and  depth 
of  soul,  you  recognize  and  admire.  She  speaks  few  words 
and  they  are  very  quietly  spoken.  Yet,  beneath  the  unde- 
monstrative manner  you  detect  the  strongest  yearnings  for 
the  love  of  him  whom  she  loves.  When  she  discovers  that 
her  love  is  reciprocated,  though  she  is  chary  of  her  words, 
you  detect  the  earnestness  of  her  delight.  Then  her  trials 
come.  Her  lover  is  separated  from  her.  Her  cruel  fortune 
is  patiently  borne  until  her  reason  is  dethroned.  Then,  even 
in  her  insanity,  her  nature  is  true  to  its  clime.  There  is  still 
reserve.  Her  grief  finds  little  utterance  in  her  own  throbbing 
words,  but  sings  itself  to  rest  in  snatches  of  songs  and  in 
the  words  of  other  tongues.  Her  emotional  nature  is  under 
control.  Her  anxiety,  her  joy,  her  grief  are  alike  subdued 
by  the  reserve  that  is  natural  to  the  Northerner. 

Juliet  stands  in  striking  contrast.  Xo  calm  exterior 
hides  her  impulsive  life.  Her  love  comes  suddenly  to  its 
full  expression.  Her  womanliness  appears  in  a  nature  that 
is  profound,  though  easily  moved;  in  a  constancy  of  love, 
though  that  love  Avould  seem  to  expend  itself  in  demonstra- 
tion. Her  utterances  of  feeling,  her  rapturous  words,  her 
earnest  action,  are  the  index  of  her  deepest  emotions.  Her 
womanliness  is  as  pure  as  Ophelia's.  She  is  simply  true  to 
the  impulsive  nature  of  the  Southerner.  Further  illustration 
of  Shakespeare's  faithfulness  to  the  nature  of  character 
cannot  be  given  in  this  book  ;  nor  is  there  need  of  further 
illustration,  if  in  the  examples  named  we  find  the  fulfillment 
of  that  most  difficult  of  dramatic  tasks, —  the  faultless 
representation  of  womanliness,  and  fidelity  in  appropriating 
an  influence  as  subtile  as  that  of  climate.  Other  dramatists 
make  simpering  fools  or  loud  braggarts  of  their  women ; 
Shakespeare  portrays  humanity  in  woman  as  successfully 
as  in  man,  and  thereby  gains  much  of  his  pre-eminence. 

His  mode  of  delineating  passion  is  unique.     Others  fall 


SHAKESPEARE.  0? 

more  or  less  into  the  error  of  making  their  personages  mere 
embodiments  of  moral  qualities, — of  ambition,  of  avarice,  of 
hypocrisy.  They  accumulate  in  their  creations  only  kindred 
characteristics.  Shakespeare  never  forgets  the  infinite  com- 
plexity of  human  nature.  As  Macaulay  justly  observes,  the 
primary  characteristic  of  Shylock  is  revengefulness ;  but  a 
closer  insight  discloses  a  thousand  other  qualities,  whose 
mutual  play  and  varying  intensity  go  to  compose  the  complex 
being  that  Shakespeare  has  drawn  in  the  terrible  Jew. 
Othello  is  no  mere  impersonation  of  jealousy,  nor  Macbeth 
of  ambition,  nor  Falstaff  of  selfish  gayety,  nor  Timon  of 
misanthropy,  nor  Imogen  of  wifely  love:  in  each  of  these 
personages,  the  m  or; -closely  we  analyze  them,  the  deeper  and 
more  multiform  will  appear  the  infinite  springs  of  action 
which  make  up  their  personality.  To  this  wonderful  power 
of  conceiving  complex  character  may  be  attributed  another 
distinguishing  peculiarity  of  our  poet,  namely,  the  total 
absence  in  his  works  of  any  tendency  to  self-reproduction. 
From  his  dramas  we  learn  nothing  whatever  of  his  own 
sympathies  and  tendencies.  He  is  absolutely  impersonal, 
or  rather  he  is  all  persons  in  turn;  for  no  poet  ever  possessed 
to  a  like  degree  the  power  of  successively  identifying  himself 
with  a  multitude  of  the  most  diverse  individualities,  and  of 
identifying  himself  so  completely  that  we  cannot  detect  a 
trace  of  preference.  Shakespeare,  when  he  has  once  thrown 
off  such  a  character  as  Othello,  never  recurs  to  it  again. 
Othello  disappears  from  the  stage  as  completely  as  a  real 
Othello  would  disappear  from  the  world,  and  leaves  behind 
him  no  similar  personage.  He  has  given  us  other  pictures 
of  jealous  men:  Leontes,  Ford,  Post-humus,  all  are  equally 
so ;  but  how  differently  is  the  passion  manifested  in  each  of 
these !  In  the  characters  of  women  too,  what  a  wonderful 
range,  what  inexhaustible  variety !  *  In  no  class  of  his  imper- 

*  "It  would  be  very  gratifying,  no  doubt,  perhaps  very  instructive  also,  to  be  let 
Into  the  domestic  life  and  character  of  the  poet's  mother.    That  both  her  nature 


98  SHAKESPEARE. 

sonations  are  the  depth,  the  delicacy,  and  the  extent  of 
Shakespeare's  creative  power  more  visible  than  in  his  women ; 
and  this  is  all  the  more  wonderful  when  we  remember  that 
in  drawing  these  exquisitely  varied  types  of  character,  he 
knew  that  they  would  be  intrusted  in  representation  to  boys 
or  young  men  —  no  woman  having  acted  on  the  stage  till 
long  after  the  age  which  witnessed  such  creations  as  Ophelia, 
Lady  Macbeth,  Kosalind,  and  Juliet.  The  author  must  have 
felt  what  he  so  powerfully  expressed  in  the  language  of  his 
own  Cleopatra : 

"  The  quick  comedians 
Extemporary  shall  stage  us  :  Antony 
Shall  be  brought  drunken  forth,  and  I  shall  gee 
Some  squeaking  Cleopatra  boy  my  greatness." 

These  Shakespearean  characters — men  or  women — do  not 
appear  as  pictures  on  the.  page  of  a  book.  We  come  to  know 
them,  not  from  descriptions  of-  them,  but  by  actual  inter- 
course with  them.  They  live.  They  talk  in  our  presence  ; 
— some  of  them  rude,  grotesque,  eccentric;  some  of  them 
grand  and  energetic;  some  of  them  in  the  various  phases  of 
insanity;  but  all  of  them  real.  This  is  Shakespeare's 
miraculous  power,  that  he  makes  realities  out  of  that  which 
others  make  into  pictures  or  dreams.  We  have  been  in  the 
Roman  Senate  and  have  seen  Julius  Ca3sar  bleed  away  his 
life.  King  Lear  is  not  a  man  about  whom  we  have  simply 
read.  He  is  a  man  in  whose  presence  we  have  been,  whose 
folly  has  disgusted  us,  whose  rage  has  startled  us,  whose 
despair  has  stirred  the  deepest  depths  of  our  pity. 

In  the  expression  of  strong  emotion,  as  well  as  in  the 
delineation  of  character,  Shakespeare  is  superior  to  all  other 
poets.  He  never  produces  the  effect  he  desires  by  violent 

and  her  discipline  entered  largely  into  his  composition,  and  had  much  to  do  in 
making  him  what  he  was,  can  hardly  be  questioned.  Whatsoever  of  woman's 
beauty  and  sweetness  and  wisdom  was  expressed  in  her  life  and  manners  could 
not  but  be  caught  and  repeated  in  his  susceptive  and  fertile  mind.  He  must  have 
grown  familiar  with  the  noblest  parts  of  womanhood  somewhere  :  and  I  can  scarce 
conceive  how  he  should  have  learned  them  so  well,  bnt  that  the  light  and  glory  of 
them  beamed  upon  him  from  his  mother." — Hudson's  Life  of  Shakespeare,  p.  14. 


SHAKESPEARE.  99 

rhetoric,  nor  by  unnatural  combinations  of  qualities.  He 
instructs  and  interests  us  by  exhibiting  passions  and  feel- 
ings as  we  see  them  in  the  world.  In  his  finest  passages 
he  draws  illustrations  from  simple  and  familiar  objects. 
Sometimes  his  natural  fondness  for  making  subtile  distinc- 
tions, sometimes  his  passion  for  punning,  does  violence  to 
our  notions  of  good  taste  ;  but  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that 
such  passion  was  the  literary  vice  of  his  day.  These  defects 
disappear  in  the  moments  of  earnestness. 

His  style  is  often  criticised  for  its  obscurity.  It  is  the 
profundity  of  his  thinking  and  the  reach  of  his  imagination 
which  make  him  subject  to  that  criticism.  He  often  thinks 
in  metaphors ;  and  we  have  to  discern  the  figure  clearly, 
before  we  can  apprehend  his  thought.  The  same  quality  of 
style  will  be  noticed  in  Bacon ;  for  he,  too,  does  his  severest 
thinking  in  boldest  metaphors.  This  habit  is  charac- 
teristic of  the  grandly  poetic  mind.  It  is  simply  the 
power  of  condensing  much  thought  into  brief  expression. 
The  men  who  have  this  power  are  they  who  furnish  the 
brilliant  quotations  for  the  printed  page  and  for  elegant 
conversation  It  is  because  he  has  that  power  pre-eminently, 
that  Shakespeare  is  quoted  more  frequently  than  any  other 
English  writer. 

It  is  noticeable  that  he  left  no  impress  upon  the  political 
life  of  his  nation.  But  upon  the  spirit  of  social  sympathy, 
upon  the  spirit  of  historical  inquiry,  and,  most  of  all,  upon 
the  history  of  his  language,  his  influence  was  potent  and  has 
been  lasting.  To  him,  more  than  to  any  other  man  since 
Chaucer,  the  English  language  is  indebted.  The 
1611.]  common  version  of  the  Bible,  made  in  1611,  and 
the  writings  of  Shakespeare,  have  been  the  conserva- 
tors of  English  speech.  The  general  reading  of  two  volumes 
that  are  models  of  simplicity,  of  sincerity  in  expression,  and 
of  discrimination  in  the  choice  of  words,  has  given  to  the 
millions  of  speakers  of  English  a  rich  and  .constant  ypcabu- 
lary.  It  was  nearly  three  centuries  ago  that  Shakespeare 


100  SHAKESPEARE. 

wrote,  yet  we  read  him  to-day  to  find  that,  while  he  made 
the  language  of  his  predecessors  obsolete,  his  vocabulary  * 
has  withstood  the  assaults  of  time,  and  is  still  fresh  and 
vigorous. 

His  writings  are  often  censured  on  account  of  their 
obscenity.  With  but  one  or  two  exceptions  his  plays,  as 
they  are  placed  upon  the  modern  stage,  are  much  expurgated. 
The  apology  for  this  defect  is  plain  and  satisfactory.  He 
was  writing  at  a  time  when,  in  every  circle  of  society,  there 
was  license  in  language.  What  is  to  us  shockingly  obscene 
in  many  of  his  passages,  was  no  transgression  of  propriety 
in  his  day.  In  this  very  particular  he  is  remarkably  pure 
in  comparison  with  his  contemporary  dramatists.  That  he 
could  not  have  been  grossly  indelicate  is  evident  to  all  who 
appreciate  the  tenderness  with  which  he  guards  purity  in 
his  impersonations. 

The  Sonnets  of  Shakespeare  (88)  possess  a  peculiar 
interest,  not  only  from  their  intrinsic  beauty,  but  also  from 
the  fact  that  they  contain  carefully  veiled  allusions  to  the 
personal  feelings  of  their  author,  allusions  which  point  to 
some  deep  disappointment  in  love  and  friendship.  They 
were  first  printed  in  1609,  though,  from  allusions  found  in 
contemporary  writings,  it  is  clear  that  many  of  them  had 
been  composed  previously.  They  are  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
four  in  number.  Some  of  them  are  evidentty  addressed  to  a 
man,  while  others  are  as  plainly  intended  for  a  woman. 
Throughout  all  of  them  there  flows  a  deep  current  of  sadness, 
discontent,  and  wounded  affection,  which  bears  every  mark 
of  being  the  expression  of  a  real  sentiment.  No  clew, 
however,  has  as  yet  been  discovered  by  which  we  may  hope 
to  trace  the  persons  to  whom  these  poems  are  addressed,  or 

*  "  An  examination  of  the  vocabulary  of  Shakespeare  will  show  that  out  of  the 
fifteen  thousand  words  which  compose  it,  not  more  than  five  or  sis  hundred  have 
gone  out  of  currency  or  changed  their  meaning,  and  of  these,  pome  no  doubt  ar» 
misprint?,  some  borrowed  from  obscure  provincial  sources,  and  some,  words  for 
which  there  is  no  other  authority,  and  which  probably  never  -were  recognized  »» 
."—  Mirth— Lecture*  m ErufiisTi  L<t*$vv&4<V  2** 


SHAKESPEARE.  101 

the  painful  events  to  which  they  allude.  Had  his  dramatic 
works  been  unwritten,  these  sonnets,  together  with  his  early 
amatory  poems,  would  have  given  him  rank  among  the  most 
brilliant  poets  of  his  age;  but  the  superior  glory  of  his 
dramas  overshadows  the  minor  works. 

Of  his  plays,  sixteen  were  printed  during  his  lifetime, 
probably  without  his  sanction.  He  was  regardless  of  the 
fate  of  his  works,  leaving  them  to  the  mercy  of  specu- 
lating publishers.  This  indilference  to  the  preservation 
of  his  most  famous  writing,  his  early  abandonment  of 
the  stage,  and  some  allusions  in  his  sonnets,  give  much 
reason  for  thinking  that  he  was  not  well  pleased  with  his 
calling.  The  first  edition  of  his  plays,  a  folio  edited  by  his 
former  comrades,  Hemiuge  and  Condell,  appeared  in  1623. 
A  second  edition  followed  in  1632,  and  a  third  in  1663. 
Another  folio  in  1685  supplied  the  demands  of  his  English 
readers,  until  Nicholas  Eowe  published  the  first  critical 
edition  in  1709. 

The  works  which  he  has  left  show  such  stores  of  knowl- 
edge, such  powers  of  discrimination,  such  resources  of  wit, 
such  pathos,  such  exhaustlessness  of  language,  such  scope  of 
imagination,  as  can  be  found  in  no  other  English  poet. 
Moreover,  he  seems  to  have  been  a  symmetrical  man.  The 
fact  that,  working  in  a  defamed  profession,  he  commanded 
the  respect  of  the  worthiest ;  the  fact  that,  being  the  most 
eminent  of  poets,  he  was  at  the  same  time  successful  in 
practical  affairs;  and  the  fact  that,  out  of  the  resources 
of  his  mind,  he  has  drawn  every  phase  of  humanity,  indicate 
his  own  completeness  and  balance  of  character. 

In  the  large  library  of  volumes  which  discuss  the  life  and  the  literature  of 
Shakespeare,  the  following  works  and  brief  papers  will  be  of  special  interest  to  the 
student  who  is  beginning  to  form  an  opinion  of  the  dramatist:— The  first  volume 
of  White's  edition  of  Shakespeare,  Hudson's  Shakespeare's  Life,  Art,  and 
Characters,  Whipple's  essay  in  The  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth,  Taine's 
EiirjRxh  Literature,  Vol.  I.,  p.  296,  seq.,  Reed's  British  Poets,  Vol.  I.,  Lecture  V., 
»e  Quincey's  Works,  Vol.  II.,  Coleridge's  Works,  Vol.  IV.,  Giles's  Hitman  Life 
In  Shabapew-e,  J.  R.  Lowell's  ess^-.y  iii  Hfy  Stvdy 


CHAPTER    X. 

THE  SHAKESPEAREAN   DRAMATISTS. 

rpHE  age  of  Elizabeth  and  James  I.  produced  a  galaxy  of  great 
-^-  dramatic  poets,  the  like  of  whom,  whether  we  regard  the 
nature  or  the  degree  of  excellence  exhibited  in  their  works,  the 
world  has  never  seen.  In  the  general  style  of  their  writings  they 
bear  a  strong  resemblance  to  Shakespeare ;  and,  indeed,  many  of 
the  peculiar  merits  of  their  great  prototype  may  be  discovered 
in  his  contemporaries.  Intensity  of  pathos  hardly  less  touching 
than  that  of  Shakespeare,  may  be  found  in  the  dramas  of  Ford; 
gallant  animation  and  dignity  in  the  dialogues  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher;  deep  tragic  emotion  in  the  sombre  scenes  of  Webster; 
noble  moral  elevation  in  the  graceful  plays  of  Massinger ;  but  in 
Shakespeare,  and  only  in  Shakespeare,  do  we  see  the  consummate 
union  of  all  the  most  opposite  qualities  of  the  poet,  the  observer, 
and  the  philosopher. 


BEN   JONSON. 

"He  did  a  little  too  mnch  Romanize  our  tougue."—  John  Dryden, 

"Jonson  possessed  all  the  learning  that  was  wanting  to  Shakespeare,  and 
••ranted  all  the  genius  which  the  other  possessed.1'— Darid  Hume. 

"Then  Jonson  came,  instructed  from  the  school, 
To  please  in  method,  and  invent  by  rule ; 
His  studious  patience  and  laborious  art 
By  regular  approach  essay'd  the  heart."— Samud  Johnson. 

"Many  were  the  wit-combats  betwixt  him  [Shakespeare]  and  Ben  Jonson,' 
which  two  I  behold  like  a  Spanish  great  galleon  and  an  English  man-of-war; 
Master  Jonson,  like  the  former,  was  built  far  higher  in  learning :  solid,  bnt  slow  in 
Ai6  performances.  Shakespeare,  with  the  English  man-of-war,  lesser  in  bulk  but 


BEK     JONSON.  103 

lighter  in  sailing,  could  turn  with  all  tides,  tack  about,  and  take  advantage  of  all 
winds  by  the  quickness  of  his  wit  and  invention." — Thomas  Fuller,  1662. 

"  I  was  yesterday  invited  to  a  solemn  supper  by  Ben  Jonson,  where  there  was 
good  company,  excellent  cheer,  choice  wines,  and  jovial  welcome.  One  thing  inter- 
vened which  almost  spoilt  the  relish  for  the  rest— that  Ben  began  to  engross  all  the 
discourse;  to  vapour  extremely  of  himself ;  and  by  vilifying  others  to  magnify  his 
own  name.  T.  Ca.  [Thomas  Carew]  buzzed  me  in  the  ear,  that  Ben  had  barrelled 
up  a  great  deal  of  knowledge,  yet  it  seems  he  had  not  read  the  ethics,  which, 
amongst  other  precepts  of  morality,  forbid  self-commendations,  declaring  it  to  be 
an  ill-favored  solecism  in  good  manners."— James  Howell,  1636. 

"  There  are  people  who  cannot  eat  olives ;  and  I  cannot  much  relish  Ben  Jonson, 
though  I  have  taken  some  pains  to  do  it,  and  went  to  the  task  with  every  sort  of 
goodwill.  I  do  not  deny  his  power  or  his  merit;  far  from  it;  but  it  is  to  me  a 
repulsive  and  unamiable  kind."—  William  HazlitL 


B.  1573.]  The  name  which  stands  uext  to  that  of  Shakespeare 
D.  1637.]  in  this  list  is  that  of  Ben  Jonson,  a  vigorous  and  solid 
genius  (§9).  Although  compelled  by  his  step-father  to 
follow  the  trade  of  a  bricklayer,  he  succeeded  in  making  himself  one 
of  the  most  learned  men  of  the  age.*  After  a  short  service  as  a 
soldier  in  the  Low  Countries,  where  he  distinguished  himself  by  his 
courage  in  the  field,  he  began  his  theatrical  career  at  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  when  we  find  him  attached  as  an  actor  to  one  of  the 
minor  theatres  called  the  Curtain.  His  success  as  a  performer  is 
said  to  have  been  very  small ;  probably  on  account  of  his  unat- 
tractiveness  of  person.  Having  killed  a  fellow-actor  in  a  duel, 
while  still  a  young  man,  he  was  (to  use  his  own  words)  "  brought 
near  the  gallows."  While  in  prison  awaiting  his  trial  he  was  con- 
verted to  the  Roman  Catholic/aith ;  but  twelve  years  afterwards 
he  returned  to  the  Protestant  Church. 

Jonson,  like  Shakespeare,  probably  began  his  dramatic  work  by 
recasting  old  plays.  His  first  original  piece,  the  comedy  Every 
Man  in  His  Humor,  is  assigned  to  the  year  1596.  As  first  repre- 
sented it  was  a  failure,  and  Shakespeare,  then  at  the  height  of  his 
popularity,  is  said  to  have  interested  himself  in  behalf  of  the  young 

*  The  story  is  told  of  Jouson  that  his  fondness  for  study  tempted  him  to  carry 
books  in  his  pocket  while  working  at  hi*  trade,  in  order  that  he  might  improve 
leisure  moments  by  refreshing  his  memory  upon  his  favorite  passages  ia  classical 
authors,  and  that  one  clay,  while  working  on  the  scaffolding  of  a  building  at  Lin- 
coln's Inn,  a  lawyer  heard  him  recite  a  passage  of  Homer  with  surprising  appre« 
ciation,  was  attracted  to  him,  and,  upon  discovering  his  thirst  for  learning,  gave  him 
opportunities  for  renewing  his  studies  at  the  University  of  Cambridge, 


104  BEST     JO  X  SON. 

aspirant,  suggesting  changes  in  the  play,  securing  its  acceptance  by 
the  managers  of  the  Globe,  and  himself  taking  a  prominent  part, 
when,  two  years  later,  it  was  brought  out  with  triumphant  success. 
Thus,  probably,  was  laid  the  foundation  of  that  sincere  and 
enduring  attachment  between  the  two  poets,  which  is  commemo- 
rated by  many  pleasant  anecdotes  of  their  genial  social  intercourse, 
as  well  as  by  that  enthusiastic  eulogy  in  which  Jonson  has  honored 
the  genius  of  his  friend. 

Jouson's  literary  reputation  was  established  by  this  second  rep- 
resentation of  his  comedy.  Henceforward  for  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  though  the  success  of  individual  plays  may  hove 
fluctuated,  he  held  rank  as  the  most  prominent  figure  in  the  literary 
society  of  the  day.  His  faults  were  the  typical  faults  of  the  con- 
ceited man ;  his  virtues  were  his  own.  Egotistical  to  the  last 
degree,  self-willed  and  overbearing,  he  was  yet  frank,  generous,  and 
social  in  temper,  and  truly  upright  and  earnest  in  purpose'.  At  the 
famous  "wit-combats"  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern  he  was  the  self- 
constituted  autocrat.  He  scrupled  not  to  lay  down  the  laws  of  the 
drama  to  Shakespeare  himself.  In  Every  Man  Out  of  His  Humor, 
and  in  Cynthia?*  Revels,  he  proclaimed  his  mission  as  a  dramatic 
reformer;  and  he  satirized  "the  ragged  follies  of  the  time"  with  such 
savage  acrimony  as  provoked  a  storm  of  recrimination  from  hia 
lampooned  contemporaries.  Dekker  and  Marston  were  his  chief 
opponents  in  the  literary  war  that  ensued.  They  accused  him  of 
plagiarism,  they  mocked  his  sublimity,  they  questioned  his  learn- 
ing. The  Poetaster,  The  Tale  of  a  Tvb,  and  many  passages  in 
Jonson's  other  plays,  attest  the  vig»r  with  which  he  bore  his  part. 
Yet  the  same  egotism  which  rendered  him  insensible  to  Shake- 
speare's influence  guarded  him  against  servile  imitation,  and  made 
him,  next  to  Shakespeare,  the  most  original  dramatist  of  the  era; 
and  the  intrepid  self-confidence  which  would  guide,  not  follow, 
popular  taste,  kept  his  works  pure  from  the  gross  immorality  which 
stains  the  brightest  pages  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher.  Doubtless 
his  resolute  self-assertion  aided  him  in  winning  recognition  for  the 
admirable  qualities  of  his  heart  and  head.  There  is  reason  to 
believe  that  his  social  position  was  superior  to  Shakespeare's ;  and 
in  an  age  when  play-writing  was  hardly  considered  "  a  creditable 
employ,"  Clarendon  affirms  that  "  his  conversation  was  very  good, 
and  with  men  of  the  best  note." 


BEX    JONS OX.  105 

Jonson's  prosperity  and  intellectual  power  reached  their  cul- 
mination between  1603  and  1619.  In  the  former  year  The  Fall  of 
Sejanus,  a  tragedy,  appeared,  followed  in  rapid  succession  by  some 
of  his  finest  works, —  Volpone,  Epicene,  The  Alchymist,  and  Catiline. 
He  was  frequently  employed  by  the  Court  in  arranging  those 
splendid  and  fantastic  entertainments  called  masques,  in  which  he 
exhibited  his  stores  of  invention  and  all  the  resources  of  his  pro- 
found and  elegant  scholarship.  In  1616  he  received  the  office  of 
Laureate,  with  an  annual  pension  of  one  hundred  marks;  and 
though  writing  little  between  1619  and  1625,  his  fortunes  suffered 
no  material  abatement  until  the  death  of  James  I.,  in  1625.  There- 
after, disappointment,  poverty,  ill-health,  and  too  great  fondness  for 
sack,  combined  their  forces  to  break  down  the  veteran.  Many  of 
his  later  plays  were  unsuccessful ;  and  in  one  of  them,  T/ie  New 
Inn,  acted  in  1630,  he  complains  bitterly  of  the  hostility  and  bad 
taste  of  his  audience.  He  died  in  1637,  and  was  buried  in  an 
upright  posture  in  the  Poet's  Comer  of  Westminster  Abbey.  Above 
his  grave  a  plain  stone  bears  the  excellent  and  laconic  inscription, 
"  O  RARE  BEN  JOHNSON."  * 

Jonson's  dramatic  works  are  of  various  degrees  of  merit,  ranging 
from  an  excellence  unsurpassed  by  any  contemporary  except 
Shakespeare,  to  the  lowest  point  of  laborious  mediocrity.  He  seems 
to  have  won  his  high  place  among  the  writers  of  the  Elizabethan 
era,  not  so  much  by  virtue  of  creative  imagination,  or  by 
any  strictly  poetic  faculties,  as  by  weight  and  breadth  of  under- 
standing, quickness  of  fancy,  power  of  analysis,  and  preternatural 
keenness  of  observation.  Thorough  and  extensive  study  strength- 
ened these  native  qualities,  but  could  not  supply  the  deficiencies. 
His  tragedies,  Tlie  Fall  of  Sejanus  and  Catiline's  Conspiracy,  display 
the  riches  of  a  profound  and  learned  intellect.  They  reproduce 
the  details  of  Roman  manners,  religion  and  sentiments,  with  minute 
fidelity,  and  contain  passages  of  wonderful  force  and  grandeur. 
But  as  wholes,  they  are  stiff  and  lifeless,  lacking  that  subtile  spirit 
of  reality  through  which  Shakespeare  could  "  transform  a  series  of 
incidents  into  a  succession  of  events."  It  is  mechanical,  not  vital 
energy  with  which  Jonson  has  endowed  his  creations.  Nor  is  it 
strange  that  there  was  this  difference  between  these  two  dramatists. 

*  In  that  inscription  hiB  name  is  spelled  "  JoAnson."    The  common  spelling  ia 
"  Jonaon." 


106  BEX     JOXSON. 

Shakespeare  disregarded  the  traditional  laws  of  dramatic  poetry 
and  wrote  with  unfettered  hand.  Free  from  restraint,  his  English 
nature  expressed  itself  in  a  drama  that  was  true  to  the  spirit  of  his 
age  and  his  nation.  His  plays,  therefore,  have  what  we  call  reality. 
Jonson,  as  we  have  said,  was  a  profound  classical  scholar.  He  was 
an  enraptured  admirer  of  the  great  works  of  the  classic  drama. 
The  laws  by  which  Greek  dramatists  had  attained  their  success 
were  to  him.  the  essential  laws  of  a  true  drama  ;  and  as  a  student 
of  dramatic  art  and  a  dramatist,  he  must  obey  those  laws.  By 
so  much  as  he  violated  them,  he  was  false  to  his  profession.  As  a 
proof  of  his  earnestness  in  holding  this  opinion,  read  his  prologue 
to  Every  Man  in  Ms  Humor.  In  his  attempt  to  be  loyal  to  his 
culture  he  placed  himself  under  a  bondage  which  made  it  impos- 
sible for  him  to  give  characters  a  native  freedom.  Bound,  to  observe 
the  unities  of  time,  place,  and  action,*  he  could  not  portray  life 
naturally. 

But  worse  than  the  defects  springing  from  Jonson's  servitude  to 
classical  laws  is  hia  singular  want  of  what  is  called  humanity.  His 
humor  is  never  genial,  his  fun  never  infectious ;  his  point  of  view 
is  always  that  of  the  satirist.  He  takes  his  materials,  both  for 
intrigue  and  for  character,  from  odious  sources.  For  instance,  the 
action  of  two  of  his  finest  plays,  Volpone  and  The  Alchymist,  turns 
entirely  upon  a  series  of  ingenious  cheats  and  rascalities,  all  the 
persons  being  either  scoundrels  or  their  dupes. 

Nevertheless,  Jonson's  knowledge  is  so  vast,  the  force  and  vigor 
of  his  expression  so  unbounded,  the  tone  of  his  morality  so  high 
and  manly,  that  his  plays  retain  a  high  place  in  literature. 

As  a  literary  man  he  stands  alone.  All  critics  say  it;  he  says 
it.  In  pedantry  he  was  as  distinguished  as  he  was  for  scholarship. 
His  diction  was  as  rotund  as  his  figure.  While  you  read  his 
writings  some  one  is  continually  telling  you  that  the  thoughts  and 
the  words  are  weighty  and  wonderful,  and  that  one  is  Ben  Jonson. 
He  was  his  own  ideal.  He  was  a  genuine  Englishman.  Shakespeare 


*  Three  rules  were  carefully  observed  in  the  composition  of  a  Grecian  Drama : 
1.  That  there  should  be  a  distinct  plot  with  one  main  action,  to  which  all  the  minor 
parts  of  the  play  should  contribute ;  2.  That  the  incidents  of  the  play  should  natur- 
ally come  within  one  day  ;  3.  That  the  entire  action  should  naturally  occur  in  one 
place.  These  three  rules  are  known  as,  the  Unity  of  Action,  the  Unity  of  Time,  and 
the  Unity  of  Place,  or  as  "  the  dramatic  unities." 


BEN     JONSON.  107 

was  a  cosmopolite.  Jonson  was  to  Shakespeare  what  England  is 
to  the  world.  While  we  may  smile  at  some  of  Jonson's  traits,  we 
admire  the  resoluteness  of  purpose  that  lies  behind  his  self-confi- 
dence ;  we  admire  his  lofty  theory  of  virtue,  though  his  own  vices 
are  not  concealed ;  we  admire  the  learning  which  supports  his 
pedantry  ;  we  admire  the  bravery  that  comes  to  the  rescue  of  his 
boasting, 

It  is  singular  that  while  Jonson  in  his  plays  is  distinguished  for 
that  hardness  and  dryness  which  we  have  endeavored  to  point  out, 
the  same  poet,  in  another  field,  should  be  remarkable  for 'elegance 
and  refinement  of  invention  and  style.  In  the  thirty-five  Masques  and 
Court  Entertainments,  which  he  composed  for  the  amusement  of 
the  king  and  the  great  nobles,  as  well  as  in  the  charming  fragment 
of  a  pastoral  drama  entitled  the  Sad  Shepherd,  Jonson  appears 
quite  another  man.  Everything  that  the  richest  and  most  delicate 
invention  could  supply,  aided  by  extensive,  choice  and  recondite 
reading,  is  lavished  upon  these  courtly  compliments.  Their  grace- 
fulness almost  makes  us  forget  their  adulation  and  servility. 
Among  the  most  beautiful  of  these  masques  we  may  mention  Paris 
Anniversary,  the  Masque  of  Oheron,  and  the  Masque  of  Queens. 
Besides  his  dramatic  works,  Jonson  left  literary  remains  in  both 
prose  and  verse.  The  former  portion,  called  Discoveries,  contains 
many  valuable  notes  on  books  and  men — those  on  Shakespeare  and 
Bacon  being  the  most  interesting. 


BEAUMONT  AND  FLETCHER. 

Superior  to  Ben  Jonson  in  variety  and  animation,  though  not 
equal  to  him  in  solidity  of  knowledge,  were  Francis  Beaumont 
(1586-1616)  and  JoL-n  Fletcher  (1576-1625),  both  of  them  by  birth 
and  by  education  of  a  higher  social  status  than  their  fellow-drama- 
tists, Beaumont  being  the  son  of  a  judge,  and  Fletcher  the  son  of  a 
bishop  (91).  Concerning  the  details  of  their  lives  and  characters 
we  possess  but  vague  and  scanty  information ;  it  is  evident,  how- 
ever, that  they  were  accomplished  men,  possessing  a  degree  of 
scholarship  amply  sufficient  to  furnish  their  writings  with  rich 
allusions  and  abundant  ornaments.  The  fifty-two  dramatic  works 
of  these  brilliant  fellow-laborers  are  extraordinary  for  their  excel- 


108  BEAUMONT     AND      FLETCHER. 

lence  and  variety.  There  seems  to  be  reason  for  ascribing  to  Beau- 
mont more  of  the  sublime  and  tragic  genius,  to  Fletcher  gayety  and 
comic  humor.  Fletcher  was  the  more  prolific  and  versatile  writer, 
and  the  volatile  creativeness  of  his  fancy  may  have  been  restrained 
and  directed  by  the  sounder  judgment  of  his  friend.*  But  so 
blended  is  their  glory  that  neither  biography  nor  criticism  has  been 
able  to  separate  their  names.  Their  respective  plays  cannot  be 
indicated  with  certainty,  their  tastes  cannot  be  distinguished,  their 
talents  cannot  be  discriminated.  In  his  generous  enthusiasm, 
Charles  Lamb  praises  the  "noble  practice"  of  the  time  when 
eminent  authors  shared  each  other's  labors  and  each  other's  fame. 
It  must  have  been  a  thought  of  the  marvellous  literary  partnership 
existing  between  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  that  prompted  his  praise. 
A  thought  beyond  them  would  have  reminded  him  of  the  feuds  of 
the  Elizabethan  authors,  of  the  criminations,  recriminations,  and 
scandals  of  that  time.  Human  nature  had  its  selfishness  and  its 
jealousies  then,  and  the  great  dramatists  had  their  share  of  the 
\veaknesses  of  human  nature.  Greene  hated  Marlowe,  and  was 
jealous  of  Shakespeare;  Marlowe  was  indignant  at  Nash ;  Chap- 
man shot  poisoned  arrows  at  Ben  Jonson,  and  Jonson  applied  his 
cudgels  to  the  backs  of  Dekker  and  Marston.  No  niche  in  the 
temple  of  literary  fame  is  large  enough  to  receive  two  men,  save 

that  in  which  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  appear.     Their  part- 
1606]    nership  was  formed  when  Beaumont  was  twenty  and  Fletcher 

thirty  years  of  age,  and  was  continued  for  ten  years. 
Their  works  afford  constant  evidence  of  the  influence  and 
inspiration  of  Shakespeare  ;  and  several  of  their  plays,  in  which  the 
graceful,  humorous,  and  romantic  elements  predominate,  are  by  no 
means  unworthy  of  comparison  with  such  comedies  as  Much  Ado 
About  Nothing,  As  You  Like  It,  and  Measure  for  Measure.  But  in 
the  delineation  of  sustained  passion  they  are  immeasurably  inferior 
to  their  master.  The  range  of  their  character-painting  is  compara- 
tively limited,  and  their  pathos  is  tender  rather  than  deep.  Their 

*  "  There  was  a  wonderful  similarity  between  Mr.  Francis  Be.iumont  and  Mr. 
John  Fletcher,  which  caused  the  clearness  of  friiiidship  between  them.  I  have 
heard  Dr.  John  Earle,  since  Bishop  of  Sarum,  say,  who  knew  them,  that  his 
(Beaumont's)  business  was  to  correct  the  snperflowings  of  Mr.  Fletcher's  wit. 
They  lived  together  on  the  Bankside,  not  far  from  the  playhouse ;  both  bachelors, 
had  one  bench  of  the  house  between  them,  which  they  did  BO  admire,  the  same 
cloaihe#,  cloaks,  etc.,  between  them." — Aubrey,  1697. 


BEAU  310  XT     A2>D     FLETCHER.  109 

numerous  portraits  of  valiant  veterans  may  be  pronounced  un- 
equalled, and  they  are  singularly  happy  in  depicting  noble  and 
magnanimous  feeling.  It  is  in  their  pieces  of  mixed  sentiment, 
containing  comic  matter  intermingled  -with  romantic  and  elevated 
incidents,  that  their  powers  are  best  displayed.  Of  this  class,  no 
better  examples  can  be  selected  than  the  comedies  of  the  Elder 
Brother,  Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife,  Beggars1  Bush,  and  the 
Spanish  Curate.  In  the  more  violently  farcical  intrigues  and 
characters,  such  as  are  to  be  found  in  the  Little  French  Lawyer,  the 
Woman-Hater,  the  Scornful  Lady,  the  eccentricity  is  laughably 
extravagant;  and  the  authors  seem  to  enjoy  the  amusement  of 
heaping  up  absurdity  upon  absurdity  out  of  the  very  exuberance 
of  their  humorous  conceits.  Some  of  their  pieces  furnish  stores  of 
antiquarian  and  literary  material ;  for  example,  the  Beggars'  Bush 
contains  abundant  illustrations  of  the  slang  dialect ;  and  the  fan- 
tastic extravaganza,  the  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  is  a  store- 
house of  ancient  English  ballad  poetry.  They  occasionally  attempt 
some  good-humored  banter  of  Shakespeare.  In  the  play  just  men- 
tioned, the  droll,  pathetic  speech  on  the  installation  of  Clause  as 
King  of  the  Gypsies  is  a  parody  of  Cranmer's  speech  in  the  last 
scene  of  Henry  VIII. 

The  pastoral  drama  of  The  Faithful  Shepherdess  was  written  by 
Fletcher  alone.  Its  exquisitely  delicate  sentiments  are  too  often 
soiled  by  passages  of  loose  and  vicious  thinking.  Still  it  has  so 
many  charms  that  it  commands  the  admiration  of  all  who  know  the 
finest  writings  of  our  literature.  Ben  Jonson's  best  poetry,  The  Sad 
Shepherd,  and  Milton's  Comus,  were  inspired  by  this  poem  of 
Fletcher. 

Philip  Massinger  (1584-1640)  was  a  gentleman  by  birth.  He 
spent  two  years  in  the  University  of  Oxford.  His  works  prove  that 
he  had  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  classical  writers  of  antiquity. 
In  1604  he  began  his  theatrical  life,  and  continuing  it  until  his  death, 
found  it  an  uninterrupted  succession  of  struggle,  disappointment, 
and  distress.  Unlike  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  who  were  servile  in 
their  deference  to  the  Court,  he  was  an  outspoken  critic  of  the 
government,  and  an  advocate  of  republican  principles.  Accord- 
ing to  the  practice  of  the  time,  he  frequently  wrote  in  partnership 
with  other  playwrights— the  names  of  Dekker,  Field,  Rowley, 
Middleton,  and  others  being  often  found  in  conjunction  with  his. 


110  PHILIP     MAS  SINGER. 

We  have  the  titles  of  thirty-seven  plays,  either  entirely  or  partly  of 
his  composition.  But  eighteen  of  them  are  extant.*  The  best 
known  are  The  Virgin  Martyr  (93),  The  Fatal  Dowry,  TJie  Duke  of 
Milan,  The  Bondman,  The  City  Madam,  anal  The  New  Way  to  Pay  Old 
Debts.  The  last  one  named  has  occasional  representation  on  the  mod- 
ern stage,  and  contains  the  famous  character  of  Sir  Giles  Overreach. 

The  quality  which  distinguishes  this  noble  writer  is  a  singular 
power  of  delineating  the  sorrow  of  pure  and  lofty  minds  exposed  to 
unmerited  suffering,  cast  down  but  not  humiliated  by  misfortune. 
Massinger  had  no  aptitude  for  pleasantries ;  but  a  desire  to  please 
the  mixed  audiences  of  those  days  introduced  such  an  amount  of 
stupid  buffoonery  and  loathsome  indecency  into  his  plays,  that  we 
are  driven  to  the  supposition  of  his  having  had  recourse  to  other 
hands  to  supply  this  obnoxious  matter.  His  style  and  versification 
are  singularly  sweet  and  noble.  No  writer  of  that  day  is  so  free 
from  archaisms  and  obscurities ;  and  perhaps  there  is  none  in  whom 
more  constantly  appear  all  the  force,  harmony,  and  dignity  of  which 
the  English  language  is  susceptible.  To  characterize  Massinger  in 
one  sentence,  we  may  say  that  dignity,  tenderness,  and  grace,  are 
the  qualities  in  which  he  excels.  At  the  close  of  a  life  of  poverty 
he  died  in  obscurity,  and  in  the  notice  of  his  death  the  parish 
register  names  him  "  Philip  Massinger  a  stranger." 

To  John  Fcrd  (1586-1639)  the  passion  of  unhappy  love  has 
furnished  almost  exclusively  the  subject-matter  of  his  plays.  He 
was  a  lawyer,  who  found  time  to  use  a  poetic  pen  while  carrying  on 
the  work  of  his  profession.  He  began  his  dramatic  career  by  joining 
with  Dekker  in  the  production  of  the  touching  tragedy  of  the  Witch 
of  Edmonton,  in  which  popular  superstitions  are  skilfully  combined 
with  a  pathetic  story  of  love  and  treachery.  The  works  attributed 
to  him  are  not  numerous.  Besides  the  above  piece  he  wrote  the 
tragedies  of  the  Brother  and  Sister,  the  Broken  Heart  (beyond  all 

*  "  The  English  drama  never  suffered  a  greater  loss  (for  all  Shakespeare's  pieces 
have  descended  to  us)  than  in  the  havoc  which  time  and  negligence  have  committed 
among  the  works  of  Massinger  ;  for  of  thirty-eight  plays  attributed  to  his  pen,  only 
eighteen  have  been  preserved." — Drake's  Shakespeare  and  ids  Times. 

"  Eleven  of  them  in  manuscript  were  in  possession  of  a  Mr.  Warbnrton,  whose 
cook,  desirous  of  saving  what  she  considered  better  paper,  used  them  in  the  kindling 
of  fires  and  the  basting  of  turkeys,  and  would  doubtless  have  treated  the  manu- 
script of  the  Faery  Queene  and  the  Xbwm  Organum  in  the  same  way,  had  Providence 
seen  fit  to  commit  then  to  her  master's  custody."—  Whipple's  Literature  of  the  Age 
of  Elizabeth. 


JOHN     FORD.  Ill 

comparison  his  most  powerful  work),  a  graceful  historical  drama 
on  the  subject  of  Perkin  Warbeck,  and  the  following  romantic  or 
tragi-comic  pieces :  the  Lover's  Melancholy  (9-1),  Love's  Sacrifice, 
Fancies  Chaste  and  Nolle,  and  the  Lady's  Trial.  His  personal 
character,  if  we  may  judge  from  slight  allusions  found  in  contem- 
porary writings,  was  sombre  and  retiring;  and  in  his  works  pensive 
tenderness  and  pathos  are  carried  to  a  higher  pitch  than  in  any 
other  dramatist.  His  lyre  has  few  tones  ;  but  his  music  makes  up 
in  intensity  for  what  it  wants  in  variety.  We  can  hardly  under- 
stand how  any  audience  could  ever  have  borne  the  harrowing  up 
of  their  sensibilities  by  such  repeated  strokes  of  pathos.  His  verse 
and  dialogue  are  somewhat  monotonous  in  their  sweet  and  plaintive 
melody,  and  are  marked  by  a  great  richness  of  classical  allusion. 

But  perhaps  the  most  powerful  and  original  genius  among  the 
Shakespearean  dramatists  of  the  second  order  is  John  Webster. 
He  is  as  tern  fie  as  Ford  is  pathetic.  His  literary  physiognomy  has 
something  of  that  dark,  bitter,  and  woful  expression  which  thrills 
us  in  the  portraits  of  Dante.  The  number  of  his  known  works 
is  very  small ;  the  most  celebrated  among  them  is  the  tragedy  of 
the  Duchess  of  Malfy  (95) ;  but  others  are  not  inferior  to  that 
strange  piece  in  intensity  of  feeling  and  savage  grimness  of  plot  and 
treatment.  Besides  the  above,  we  have  The  Devil's  Law- Case, 
Guise,  or  the  Matsacre  of  France,  in  which  the  St.  Bartholomew  is, 
of  course,  the  main  action  ;  the  White  Devil,  founded  on  the  crimes 
and  sufferings  of  Vittoria  Corombona ;  Appius  and  Virginia.  We 
thus  see  that  he  worked  by  preference  on  themes  which  offered  a 
congenial  field  for  his  portrayal  of  the  darker  passions  and  of  the 
moral  tortures  of  their  victims.  As  Charles  Lamb  says,  "  To  move 
a  horror  skilfully,  to  touch  a  soul  to  the  quick,  to  lay  upon  fear  as 
much  as  it  can  bear,  to  wean  and  weary  a  life  till  it  is  ready  to 
drop,  and  then  step  in  with  mortal  instruments  to  take  its  last 
forfeit ;  this  only  a  Webster  can  do."  Like  many  of  his  contem- 
poraries, he  knew  the  secret  of  expressing  the  deepest  emotion 
through  the  most  familiar  images ;  and  the  dirges  and  funeral  songs 
which  he  has  frequently  introduced  into  his  pieces,  have  that, 
intenseness  of  feeling  which  seems  to  resolve  itself  into  the  element 
which  it  contemplates." 

As  we  pass  on  to  the  lower  grades  of  dramatic  talent,  we  are 


112  JOHN     WEBSTER. 

almost  bewildered  by  the  number  and  variety  of  manifestations.  A 
few  writers,  however,  deserve  a  distinct  notice : — Thomas  Dekker 
was  one  of  the  most  prolific  of  these.  Although  he  generally  appears 
as  a  fellow-laborer  with  other  dramatists,  yet  in  the  few  pieces 
attributed  to  his  unassisted  pen,  he  shows  great  elegance  of 
language  and  deep  tenderness  of  sentiment.  Thomas  Middleton, 
best  known  as  the  author  of  The  Witch,  is  admired  for  a  certain 
wild  and  fantastic  fancy  which  delights  in  portraying  scenes  of 
supernatural  agency.  John  Marston  is  distinguished  mainly  by  a 
lofty  and  satiric  tone  of  invective,  in  which  he  lashes  the  vices  and 
follies  of  mankind.  Thomas  Heywood  exhibits  a  graceful  fancy, 
and  one  of  his  plays,  A  Woman  Killed  ucith  Kindness,  is  among  the 
most  touching  of  the  period. 

The  dramatic  era  of  Elizabeth  and  James  closes  with  James 
Shirley  (1594-1666),  whose  comedies,  though  in  many  respects 
bearing  the  same  general  character  as  the  works  of  his  great 
predecessors,  still  seem  the  earnest  of  a  new  period  (96).  He 
excels  in  the  delineation  of  gay  and  fashionable  society ;  and  his 
dramas  are  more  laudable  for  ease,  grace,  and  animation,  than  for 
profound  analysis  of  human  nature,  or  for  vivid  portraiture  of 
character.  But  the  glory  of  the  English  drama  had  almost 
departed ;  and  its  extinction  by  external  violence  in  1642  but 
precipitated  .what  was  inevitable.  The  breaking  out  of  the  Civil 
War  in  that  year  closed  the  theatres ;  and  this  suspension  of  the 
dramatic  profession  was  made  perpetual  by  an  ordinance  of  the 
Commons  in  1648.  From  that  date  until  the  Restoration,  all 
theatrical  performances  were  illegal ;  but  with  the  connivance  of 
Cromwell,  Davenant  gave  dramatic  entertainments  at  Rutland 
House;  and  upon  the  great  Protector's  death  in  1658,  he  ven- 
tured to  re-open  a  public  theatre  in  Drury  Lane.  With  this  event 
began  an  entirely  new  chapter  in  the  history  of  the  English 
stage. 

The  Eli/abethan  drama  is  the  most  wonderful  and  majestic  out- 
burst of  genius  that  any  age  has  yet  seen.  It  is  characterized  by 
marked  peculiarities;  an  intense  richness  and  fertility  of  imagina- 
tion, combined  with  the  greatest  force  and  vigor  of  familiar 
expression ;  an  intimate  union  of  the  common  and  the  refined ;  the 
boldest  flights  of  fancy  and  the  most  scrupulous  fidelity  to  actual 
reality.  The  great  object  of  these  dramatists  being  to  produce 


THE     ELIZABETHAN     DRAMA.  113 

intense  impressions  upon  a  miscellaneous  audience,  they  sacrificed 
everything  to  strength  and  nature.  Their  writings  reflect  not  only 
faithful  images  of  human  character  and  passion  under  every 
conceivable  condition,  not  only  the  strongest  as  well  as  the  most 
delicate  coloring  of  fancy  and  imagination,  but  also  the  profoundest 
and  simplest  precepts  derived  from  the  practical  experience  of  life. 

For  brief  discussions  of  authors  named  in  this  chapter,  see  Hazlitt's  Works,  Vol. 
III.,  Coleridge's  Works,  VoL  IV.,  Lamb's  Works,  Vol.  IV.,  Hallam'e  Literature  tf 
Europe,  Vol.  HI. 


//CHAPTER    XI. 

THE    PROSE    LITERATURE    OF   THE    ELIZABETHAN    PERIOD. 

rpHE  object  of  the  present  chapter  is  to  trace  the  nature  and  the'" 
-*~  results  of  that  revolution  in  philosophy  brought  about  by 
the  writings  of  Bacon  ;  and  at  the  same  time  to  give  a  general  view 
of  the  prose  literature  of  the  Elizabethan  era.  As  Bacon  was  the 
grandest  thinker  of  that  age  who  wrote  in  prose,  he  must  be  the 
principal  figure  of  the  chapter ;  and  other  authors  of  inferior 
merit  must  be  but  briefly  mentioned. 

Much  of  the  peculiarly  practical  tendency  of  the  political  and 
philosophical  literature  of  our  own  time  can  be  traced  to  its 
beginning  hi  the  Elizabethan  era,  when,  as  a  result  of  the  Reforma- 
tion, education  first  found  many  devotees  among  English  laymen, 
and  prose  literature,  for  the  first  time,  was  generally  used  for  other 
than  Bcclesiastical  purposes.  The  clergy  had  no  longer  the 
monopoly  of  that  learning  and  of  those  acquirements  which,  during 
preceding  centuries,  had  given  them  the  monopoly  of  power. 
Laymen  were  wielding  the  pen.  It  must  be  admitted  that  the 
prose  of  that  era  makes  but  a  poor  figure  when  compared  with  the 
splendor  of  the  Elizabethan  poetry ;  and  that  it  is,  indeed,  redeemed 
from  almost  utter  insignificance  by  the  few  English  writings  of 
Francis  Bacon,  a  man  who  gained  his  chief  glories  from  works  that 
were  written  in  the  Latin  language. 

In  the  humble  department  of  historical  chronicles.  John  Stow, 
before  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  published  his  Summary  of 
English  Chronicles,  Annals  and  A  Survey  of  London  ;  and  Raphael 
Holinshed,  who  died  in  1580,  had  written  the  pages  from  which 
Shakespeare  drew  the  material  for  some  of  his  half-legendary,  half- 
historical  dramas,  and  for  the  majority  of  his  purely  historical 
plays. 


SIB     WALTER     RALEIGH.  115 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  men  of  this  era  was  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh  (1552-1618),  whose  romantic  career  belongs  to  the  political 
rather  than  to  the  literary  history  of  England  (45,  56).  He  was 
among  the  foremost  courtiers  of  the  queen ;  *  he  was  a  bold 
navigator,  exploring  unknown  regions  of  the  globe ;  he  was  a  brave 
soldier,  winning  laurels  on  the  Continent  and  in  Ireland.  When 
James  I.  came  to  the  throne,  Raleigh's  fortunes  declined.  He  was 
charged  with  treason,  was  tried,  and  sentenced  to  the  Tower,  where  he 
was  imprisoned  for  thirteen  years.  During  the  weary  years  of  this 
long  imprisonment  he  devoted  himself  to  literary  and  scientific  work ; 
— some  of  the  time  experimenting  in  chemistry  with  the  hope  of 
discovering  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  much  of  the  time,  with  the 
help  of  friends,  writing  his  History  of  the  World.  By  that  work  he 
won  his  literary  fame.  Later  histories  have  shown  that  what  he 
supposed  to  be  historical  facts  were  merely  fancies,  and  that  many 
of  his  theories  were  groundless;  still,  he  holds  and  deserves  the 
honor  of  being  the  pioneer  in  the  department  of  dignified  historical 
writing.  After  his  long  imprisonment  he  was  sent  to  South  America 
in  quest  of  riches  for  the  king.  The  expedition  was  unfortunate. 
One  of  Raleigh's  exploits  enraged  the  Spanish  court,  and  to  appease 
the  wrath  of  the  Spaniards,  Raleigh  was  seized  upon  his  return  to 
England,  and  was  beheaded  in  1618.  A  man  of  remarkable 
patience  and  resoluteness,  and  showing  many  signs  of  powerful 
intellect,  Raleigh  must  have  been  one  of  the  grandest  of  the  literary 
men  of  his  age,  had  his  life  been  devoted  to  letters,  instead  of  being 
spent  in  gaining  brilliant  temporary  successes  in  a  variety  of  pursuits. 
He  was  the  founder  of  that  famous  "  Mermaid  Club  "  in  which 
Jonson,  Fletcher,  probably  Shakespeare,  and  other  eminent  wits 
of  the  day,  gathered  to  enjoy  each  other's  sparkling  conversation, 
and  was  himself  accounted  one  of  the  most  charming  men  of 
that  literary  company.  His  resources  of  character  must  have  been 

*  "  The  legend  of  his  first  introduction  to  Elizabeth  Is  too  romantic  to  be  omitted, 
Although  we  must  not  forget  that  it  rests  only  on  tradition.  When  the  Queen,  in 
walking  one  day,  came  to  a  muddy  place,— these  places  were  very  common  in 
English  roads  and  pathways  then,— she  stopped  and  hesitated.  Raleigh,  peeing  her 
pause,  with  ready  tact  flung  down  his  rich  plush  cloak  for  her  to  step  on.  The 
graceful  act,  which  was  just  the  kind  of  flattering  attention  that  Elizabeth  liked 
best,  showed  that  Raleigh  was  cut  out  for  a  courtier.  A  capital  investment  it  was 
that  the  young  soldier  made.  He  lost  his  cloak,  but  he  gained  the  favor  of  a  queen 
who  well  knew  how  to  honor  and  reward." — W.  F.  Collier . 


110  RIG  HARD     HOOKER. 

equal  to  his  reputation,  for  in  the  most  desperate  circumstances  he 
was  thoroughly  self-possessed.  In  his  trial  for  treason,  when  the 
Attorney-General,  hurling  fierce  invectives  at  him,  said,  "I  want 
words  to  express  thy  viperous  treasons,"  "  True,"  said  Raleigh, 
"  for  you  have  spoken  the  same  thing  half  a  dozen  times  over 
already;"  and  when  he  was  brought  to  the  block,  taking  the  axe 
in  his  hand,  he  ran  his  fingers  over  its  keen  edge,  smiling  as  he  said, 
"  This  is  a  sharp  medicine,  but  it  will  cure  all  diseases."  It  is  to 
be  regretted  that  he  did  not  use  his  ever-present  wit,  his  poetic 
talent  and  his  ready  pen,  in  making  more  varied  and  more  valuable 
contributions  to  our  literature. 

The  great  champion  of  the  principles  of  the  Church  of  England 
against  the  encroachments  of  Puritan  sentiments  was  Richard 
Hooker  (1553-1600),  a  man  of  piety  and  of  vast  learning.  He  was 
for  four  years  a  fellow  of  the  University  of  Oxford,  where  he  gained 
fame  as  a  lecturer  on  Oriental  literature.  In  1585  his  eloquence 
and  learning  obtained  for  him  the  eminent  post  of  Muster  of  the 
Temple  in  London.  Here  his  colleague,  Walter  Travers,  pro- 
pounded doctrines  of  church  government  similar  to  those  of  the 
Calvinistic  confession,  and  therefore  incompatible  with  Hooker's 
opinions.  The  mildness  and  modesty  of  Hooker's  character  made 
controversy  odious  to  him.  He  induced  his  ecclesiastical  superior 
to  remove  him  to  the  more  congenial  duties  of  a  country  parish, 
and  there  he  devoted  the  remainder  of  his  life  to  that  work  which 
has  placed  him  among  the  most  eminent  of  Anglican  divines,  and 
among  the  best  prose-writers  of  his  age.  The  title  of  this  work  is 
A  Treatise  on  the  Laws  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity  (57),  and  its  pur- 
pose is  to  investigate  and  define  the  principles  which  underlie  the' 
right  of  the  Church  to  claim  obedience  from  its  members,  and  the 
duty  of  the  members  to  render  obedience  to  the  Church.  But 
while  thus  fortifying  the  organization  of  the  English  Church  against 
the  attacks  of  the  Roman  Catholics  on  the  one  hand  and  of  the  Puri- 
tans on  the  other,  Hooker  has  built  up  his  arguments  upon  those 
eternal  truths  which  are  the  foundation  of  all  law,  all  duty,  and  all 
rights,  political  as  well  as  religious.  The  Ecclesiastical  Polity  is  a 
work  of  profound  and  cogent  reasoning,  supported  by  immense 
and  varied  erudition,  and  vitalized  by  a  spirit  of  fervent  devotion. 
It  gave  new  dignity  to  English  prose  literature.  Its  style  is  wholly 
free  from  pedantry,  clear  and  vigorous.  To  Hooker  belongs  the 


BACOX.  11? 

glory  of  first  fully  developing  the  English  language  as  a  vehicle  of 
refined  and  philosophic  thought.  The  breadth  and  power  of  his 
mind  are  fitly  expressed  in  the  stately  majesty  of  his  periods.* 


>       ' 


FRANCIS  BACON. 


"The  wisest,  brightest,  meanest  of  mankind."— Pope. 
"The  great  secretary  of  nature  and  all  learning." — Walton. 

"  He  had  the  sound,  distinct,  comprehensive  knowledge  of  Aristotle,  with  all  the 
ber  utiful  lights,  graces,  and  embellishments  of  Cicero." — Addison. 

"  He  may  be  compared  with  those  liberators  of  nations  who  have  given  laws  by 
which  they  might  govern  themselves,  and  retained  no  homage  but  their  gratitude." 
— Hattam. 

"  Who  is  there  that  upon  hearing  the  name  of  Lord  Bacon  does  not  instantly 
recognize  everything  of  genius  the  most  profound,  everything  of  literature  the  most 
extensive,  everything  of  discovery  the  most  penetrating,  everything  of  observation 
of  human  life  the  most  distinguishing  and  refined  ? " — Burke. 

"  My  conceit  of  his  person  was  never  increased  towards  him  by  his  place  or 
honors  ;  but  1  have  and  do  reverence  him  for  the  greatness  that  was  only  proper  to 
himself:  in  that  he  seemed  to  me  ever,  by  his  work,  one  of  the  greatest  men  and 
most  worthy  of  admiration  that  had  been  in  many  ages.  In  his  adversity  I  ever 
prayed  God  would  give  him  strength ;  for  greatness  he  could  not  want." — Sen 
Jonson. 

B.  1561.]          In  his  mature  manhood  Francis  Bacon 

D.  1626.]  was  extravagant,  fond  of  display,  a  servile 
courtier,  everywhere  a  close  observer,  a  keen 
critic,  and  a  profound  thinker.  His  seemingly  incongruous 
qualities,  if  native  to  his  character,  had  been  fostered  by  the 
fortune  of  his  childhood  and  youth.  He  was  the  younger 
son  of  Sir  Nicholas  Bacon,  and  the  favorite  son.  His  father, 
the  Lord-Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal  of  England,  was  one 
of  the  bright  stars  in  that  galaxy  of  statesmen  who  gave 

*  One  of  the  most  famous  sentences  in  our  literature,  found  in  the  first  book  of 
The  Ecclesiastical  Polity,  reads  as  follows  :  "Of  law  there  can  be  no  less  acknowl- 
edged than  that  her  seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the  world : 
all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage ;  the  very  least  as  feeling  her  care, 
and  the  greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her  power;  both  angels  and  men, and  crea- 
tures of  what  condition  soever,  though  each  in  different  sort  and  manner,  yet  all 
with  nuiform  consent,  admiring  her  as  the  mother  of  their  peace  and  joy." 


118  B  A  C  0  X  . 

the  reign  of  Elizabeth  its  glory.  His  mother  was  a  woman 
of  stern  integrity  of  character,  trained  in  the  learning  of  that 
day.  Under  parental  influences  in  which  were  blended  dig- 
nity, vigor,  intellect,  refinement,  and  practical  shrewdness, 
in  the  elegance  of  an  English  nobleman's  palace,  amid  the 
clustering  associations  of  cultivated  society,  there  was  every 
opportunity  for  the  development  of  extravagant  tastes,  of 
courtiership,  of  stimulating  self-esteem,  of  keen  and  varied 
observation,  and  of  profound  thoughtful  ness.  In  boyhood 
his  body  was  very  delicate,  his  mind  was  precocious.  The 
great  Queen,  petting  him,  would  call  him  her  little  Lord 
Keeper.  When  thirteen  years  old  he  was  sent  to  Cam- 
bridge, where  he  spent  three  years  in  forming  a  decided  and 
lasting  contempt  for  th«  unpractical  studies  of  the  uni- 
versity. That  life  at  the  university  roused  a  spirit  coura- 
geous enough  to  attack  the  monstrous  system  of  scholastic 
learning,  and  honest  enough  to  tell  the  world  that  what 
they  had  been  reverencing  as  a  divine  philosophy  was,  as 
they  were  beginning  to  suspect,  false  and  effete.  His 
incisive  thinking  penetrated  the  shadow  of  that  darksome 
learning,  and  saw  the  form  of  a  philosophy  which  would 
become  fruit-bearing;  and  as  he  watched  it  with  intenser 
gaze  as  years  passed  by,  he  gained  such  clear  views  of  its 
glory  that  he  was  enabled  to  give  rich  prophecies  and 
descriptions  of  it  in  his  volumes  of  wisdom.  His  observa- 
tion discovered  that  in  the  system  of  instruction  at  the 
universities  there  was  slavish  deference  to  authority,  that 
men  did  not  dare  to  think  beyond  the  thoughts  of  former 
generations,  that  progress  was  thereby  forbidden.  In  hia 
fellow-students  he  saw  men  like  "  becalmed  ships,  that  never 
move  but  by  the  wind  of  other  men's  breath,  and  have  no 
oars  of  their  own  to  steer  withal." 

At  sixteen  he  went  to  live  in  France  as  an  attache  of  the 
English  ambassador.  There  he  saw  new  phases  of  the 
courtier's  life,  studied  a  strange  national  character,  and  con- 


B  A  C  O  3  .  119 

firmed  his  opinions  of  the  need  of  improvement  in  the  intel- 
lectual pursuits  of  men.  He  must  have  displayed  some 
talent  in  business  affairs,  for  he  gained  the  confidence  of  the 
ambassador,  and  was  intrusted  by  him  with  despatches  to 
the  Queen.  During  the  two  years  spent  upon  the  Conti- 
nent he  was  observing  and  studious,  and  was  interested  in 
gathering  material  for  his  first  literary  work,  Of  the  State 
of  Europe. 

In  1579  he  was  summoned  to  England  on  account  of  the 
death  of  his  father.  He  was  then  nearly  nineteen  years  of 
age — without  money,  with  only  his  ambition  and  his  intel- 
lect to  help  him  in  winning  his  way  to  eminence.  Living  in 
that  stirring  age,  schooled  in  the  ways  of  the  Avorld,  knowing 
the  methodless  life  of  the  professed  philosophers,  a  mind  as 
observing,  as  positive  as  his,  had  necessarily  resolved  upon  a 
definite  pursuit,  and  had  established  for  itself  certain  prin- 
ciples of  action.  If  we  can  detect  that  purpose  and  those 
principles,  we  may  be  able  to  understand  some  of  the 
mysterious  ways  of  his  life. 

It  is  reasonable  for  us  to  believe  that  he  had  become 
convinced — 

1st.  That  learning  was  not  doing  the  sort  of  work  it 
should  do  for  mankind. 

2d.  That  whoever  would  inaugurate  a  reformation  in 
learning  must  be  a  person  eminent  in  the  public  confidence. 

3d.  That  no  person  could  attain  eminence  and  public 
confidence  who  had  not  the  sanction  and  patronage  of  the 
Court. 

4th.  That  scholarly  attainments,  without  the  courtier's 
shrewdness,  could  not  win  the  needed  sanction  and  pa- 
tronage. 

Passages  in  his  letters  and  the  course  he  pursued,  show 
that  these  were  his  earnest  convictions.  He  promptly 
began  the  study  of  the  law,  and  in  1582  was  called  to  the 
bar.  Those  who  criticise  him  say  that  he  made  servile  and 


120  BACON. 

persistent  appeals  for  patronage.  He  did  beg  of  his  uncle 
Burleigh,  the  Lord  Treasurer,  that  some  office,  with  light 
duties,  and  yet  with  generous  compensation,  might  be  given 
to  him,  in  order  that  he  might  have  the  time  and  the  means 
for  becoming  "  a  pioneer  in  the  deep  mines  of  truth."  In 
one  of  his  letters,  he  said  that  he  had  "  vast  contemplative 
ends,"  and  that  he  had  "taken  all  knowledge  for  his  pro- 
vince." These  earnest  declarations  doubtless  seemed  to  the 
sturdy  old  uncle  like  the  aspirations  of  a  dreamer.  He  had 
no  faith  in  the  practical  shrewdness  of  his  nephew,  and 
therefore  pushed  him  away  from  the  approaches  to  prefer- 
ment. Failing  in  his  repeated  attempts  to  gain  the  favor  of 
Burleigh,  Bacon  sought  and  won  the  friendship  of  Essex, 
his  uncle's  rival.  Essex  gave  him  large  sums  of  money,  and 
tried,  unsuccessfully,  to  secure  his  political  advancement. 
Bacon  soon  discovered  that  Essex  was  a  dangerous  friend, 
for  he  was  a  reckless  man.  Their  intimacy  ceased.  In  a 
few  years  Bacon,  having  been  appointed  Queen's  counsel, 
was  called  upon  to  prosecute  his  old  friend  for  acts  of 
treason.  The  charges  were  proved,  and  the  penalty  of  death 
was  inflicted.  For  his  part  in  the  prosecution  Bacon  has 
been  accused  of  ingratitude  and  of  most  malicious  selfish- 
ness. It  has  been  said  that  he  might  have  saved  his  friend, 
or,  at  least,  from  very  shame,  might  have  refused  to  appear 
against  him.  But  the  truth  seems  to  be  that  Bacon  did  all 
that  he  could  do  to  prevent  Essex  from  pursuing  his  mad 
follies;  that  in  the  trial  he  dealt  as  gently  with  him  as  he 
could;  and  that  when,  by  the  Queen's  command,  he  pre- 
pared the  government's  defence  for  its  treatment  of  Essex, 
his  expressions  were  so  moderate  as  to  call  forth  from  the 
angry  Queen  the  rebuking  words,  "  I  see  old  love  is  not 
easily  forgotten."  The  charge  that  Bacon  desperately 
sought  the  life  of  Essex,  for  the  sake  of  ingratiating  himself 
with  Elizabeth,  is  altogether  improbable. 

He  was  now  on  the  way  to  high  political  honors.     In 


B  A  C  0  X  .  121 

the  House  of  Commons  he  was  recognized  as  a  masterly 
orator ;  *  in  his  profession  he  was  renowned  for  hrilliancy 
and  learning.  He  was  still  seeking  advancement,  was  using 
persistent  and  studied  complaisance  towards  the  Court. 
But  surely  he  was  not  actuated  merely  by  the  infatuation 
of  the  politician.  His  early  ambition  for  the  reform  of 
learning  was  still  inspiring  him.  With  all  his  eloquence  he 
urged  the  government  to  aid  the  reforms  which  he  had  pro- 
jected. The  busy  whirl  of  his  public  life  did  not  keep  him 
away  from  the  study  of  practical  philosophy.  His  lament  is 
pitiful  as  again  and  again  he  tells  of  the  limited  time  he  has 
to  give  to  his  inquiries  after  the  truths  of  nature.  These 
phases  of  his  life  indicate,,  that  the  more  reasonable  as  well 
as  the  more  generous  view  of  his  servility  to  the  Court  shows 
him  to  have  been  seeking  something  beyond  political  suc- 
cess. That  something  was  the  eminence  which  should  enable 
him  to  inaugurate  in  his  own  day  the  methods  by  which 
he  could  secure  the  advancement  of  learning. 

The  story  is  told  that  when  Bacon  was  a  little  boy  the 
Queen  asked  him  his  age.  He  replied,  "I  am  two  years 
younger  than  your  Majesty's  happy  reign."  That  was  an 
answer  for  a  native  courtier,  a  devotee  of  royalty,  to  make. 
When  he  was  sixty  years  old,  and  was  selected  as  the  scape- 
goat to  bear  away  the  abuses  of  James's  administration,  he 
bowed  his  head,  submissively  acknowledged  his  faults,  and 
received  the  punishment  which  a  cowardly  king  permitted 
to  be  inflicted  upon  him.  That  was  an  act  for  a  devotee  of 
royalty  to  perform.  From  childhood,  when  he  gave  his 

*  "There  happened  in  my  time  one  noble  Bpeaker  who  was  full  of  gravity  in  hia 
speaking.  Hia  language,  when  he  could  spare  or  pass  a  jest,  was  nobly  censorious. 
No  man  ever  spoke  more  neatly,  more  pressly,  more  weightily,  or  suffered  less 
emptiness,  less  idleness  in  what  he  uttered.  No  member  of  his  speech  but  con- 
sisted of  his  own  graces.  His  hearers  could  not  congh  or  look  aside  from  him  with? 
out  loss.  He  commanded  where  he  spoke,  and  had  his  judges  angry  and  pleased  at 
his  devotion.  No  man  had  their  affections  more  in  his  power.  The  fear  of  every 
man  that  heard  him  was  lest  he  should  make  an  end."— Ben  Jonson,  referring  to 
Bacon. 


122  BACON. 

honest  compliment  to  the  Queen,  until  old  age,  when  he 
surrendered  his  office  and  some  of  his  honor  for  the  comfort 
of  the  King,  he  showed  to  the  English  crown  a  loyalty,  a 
reverence,  which  seems  to  us  like  superstition.  For  this  he 
has  been  condemned  by  many  an  historian,  and  has  been 
lashed  by  the  scourge  of  many  a  critic.  When  he  is  named 
as  the  apostle  of  progress  his  revilers  reply  that  he  was  the 
blind  advocate  of  kingcraft.  That  there  is  ground  for  such 
statement  cannot  be  denied.  It  covers  nearly  all  the  charges 
that  are  made  against  his  character ;  still  it  does  not  make 
him  a  hypocrite,  the  morally  worthless  man  he  is  sometimes 
described  as  being.  His  subservience  to  a  crown  was  inbred. 
Xicholas  Bacon,  the  Keeper  of  the  Great  Seal,  had  taught 
his  son  to  cherish  a  religious  reverence  for  the  person  who 
might  be  sitting  on  the  throne  of  England. 

Justice  to  the  memory  of  a  man  who  is  everywhere 
recognized  as  one  of  the  greatest  men  in  history,  demands 
that  he  be  judged,  not  as  Bacon  too  often  is,  from  one  or  two 
incidents  of  suspected  infidelity  to  his  manhood,  but  from 
the  whole  course  of  his  life,  its  early  training,  its  definite 
purpose,  and  its  ruling  principles. 

On  the  coronation  of  James  I.,  in  1603,  Bacon  was 
knighted,  and  at  the  same  time  was  married  to  Alice  Barn- 
ham,  the  daughter  of  a  London  alderman.  He  was  there- 
after elected  to  more  than  one  Parliament,  and  was  ap- 
pointed Solicitor -General,  then  Attorney -General,  then 
Lord  Keeper,  with  the  title  of  Baron  Verulam,  and  his 
titles  were  finally  completed  by  those  of  Lord-Chancellor 
and  Viscount  St.  Albans.  In  the  discharge  of  his  varied 
and  great  responsibilities  the  versatility  and  energy  of  his 
genius  were  well  displayed.  His  political  disgrace,  to  which 
allusion  was  made  in  the  preceding  paragraph,  occurred  in 
1621.  He  was  condemned  to  lose  the  chancellorship,  to  pay 
a  fine  of  forty  thousand  pounds,  to  be  imprisoned  during 
the  King's  pleasure,  to  be  ineligible  to  any  office  in  the 


BACON.  123 

i 

state,  and  was  forbidden  to  sit  in  Parliament,  or  to  come 
within  twelve  miles  of  the  court.  But  a  remission  of  these 
penalties  was  soon  granted,  and  an  annual  pension  of  twelve 
hundred  pounds  was  bestowed  upon  him  for  life. 

The  life  of  the  fallen  minister  was  prolonged  for  five 
years  after  his  disgrace.  In  spite  of  his  misfortunes  and  of 
his  pecuniary  embarrassments,  those  were  his  most  fruitful 
years.  He  died  in  1626.  Biding  in  his  carriage  one  spring 
day,  when  the  snow  was  falling,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
snow  might  serve  as  well  as  salt  in  preserving  flesh.  So 
stopping  at  a  cabin  by  the  roadside,  he  bought  a  fowl,  for 
the  purpose  of  trying  the  experiment.  By  the  slight 
exposure  he  was  chilled,  and  thrown  into  a  sudden  and 
fatal  fever.  To  use  the  words  of  Lord  Macaulay,  "  The 
great  apostle  of  experimental  philosophy  was  destined  to  be 
its  martyr." 

In  order  to  appreciate  the  services  which  Bacon  rendered 
to  science,  we  must  dismiss  from  our  minds  the  common  and 
erroneous  idea  that  he  was  an  inventor  or  a  discoverer  in 
any  specific  branch  of  knowledge.  His  mission  was,  not  to 
teach  the  results  of  investigation,  but  to  show  the  method  by 
which  investigations  should  be  made.  We  must  also  remind 
ourselves  of  that  philosophy  which  Bacon  wished  to  supplant. 
It  was  a  compound  of  the  freaks  of  speculation.  It  had 
nothing  in  common  with  the  practical  science  of  modern 
times.  It  was  the  old  Aristotelian  philosophy  robbed  of  its 
slight  veneration  for  nature  and  perverted  by  many  unwar- 
ranted interpretations.  We  call  it  scholasticism.  No  one  of 
its  devotees  was  bold  enough  to  step  from  the  platform  of 
authority.  Aristotle,  misrepresented,  was  respected  as  the 
dictator  of  all  correct  thinking.  Verbal  distinctions,  not 
useful  investigations,  consumed  the  talents  of  the  thoughtful ; 
quibbles  took  the  place  of  earnest  questionings.  Failure  to 
advance  was  due  to  no  want  of  retirement  and  meditation, 


124  B  A  C  0  X  . 

* 

to  no  distaste  for  argument  and  wrangling.  The  intellect  was 
in  thralldoni ;  and  reason  was  the  vassal  of  a  worthless  faith. 
This  scholastic  period  is  generally  spoken  of  as  extending 
from  the  ninth  to  the  close  of  the  fifteenth  century.  It  was 
the  age  of  false  premises  and  of  futile  reasoning.  Speculation 
was  carried  in  every  direction.  Natural  science,  as  well  as 
psychology,  was  made  the  subject  of  vain  imaginings.  Like 
a  huge  breakwater  this  scholasticism  skirted  the  sea  of 
thought.  For  three  centuries  it  had  broken  the  wave  of 
every  advancing  opinion.  But  as  the  fifteenth  century 
drew  to  its  close  the  sea  gave  indications  of  an  approaching 
storm,  the  sky  was  overcast  by  portentous  clouds,  wave  after 
wave  came  rolling  shoreward  from  the  ocean  of  free  thought, 
and,  at  last,  the  surge  of  the  Befornuition  burst  with  terrify- 
ing roar  against  that  time-worn  scholasticism,  tumbling 
it  out  of  the  way.  Then  thought  advanced;  and  the 
colossal  Bacon  came  upon  the  scene  to  give  direction  to 
that  thought. 

The  Aristotelian  method  of  investigation,  even  before  its 
perversion  by  the  schoolmen,  had  been  open  to  the  charge 
of  infertility — of  being  essentially  unprogressive.  Its  aim 
was  the  attainment  of  abstract  truth ;  practical  utility  was 
regarded  as  an  end  which,  whether  attained  or  not,  was 
beneath  the  dignity  of  the  sage.  The  object  of  the  Inductive 
Method,  as  proclaimed  by  Bacon,  was  fruit, — the  improve- 
ment of  the  condition  of  mankind.  He  wished  man  to 
become  "  the  minister  and  interpreter  of  nature."  He  would 
have  the  laws  of  nature  understood,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  observed  intelligently  by  the  sailor,  the  farmer,  the  miner, 
by  whomsoever  might  be  a  worker  in  the  world.  From  the 
knowledge  of  the  laws  of  nature,  industries  would  be  more 
effective,  comforts  would  be  multiplied,  the  condition  of 
man  would  be  ameliorated.  Those  laws  he  would  have 
discovered  by  means  of  a  methodic,  scientific  observation  of 
the  phenomena  of  nature.  He  devised  the  plan  by  which 


BACON.  125 

such  observations  were  to  be  made.  He  did  not  originate 
induction — induction  is  a  natural  process  of  the  human 
mind.  He  showed  how  induction  should  be  carried  into 
different  lines  of  inquiry  in  order  to  produce  results 
for  the  good  of  mankind.  He  wished  the  world  to  know 
more,  he  saw  that  knowledge  would  be  increased  by  the 
use  of  the  inductive  method,  and  he  suggested  the  plan  by 
which  nature  could  be  compelled  to  yield  her  secrets.  His 
system  is  contained  in  the  series  of  works  to  which  he  intended 
to  give  the  general  title  of  Instauratio  Magna,  or  The  Great 
Institution  of  True  Philosophy.  Its  scope  is  magnificent, 
and  that  is  what  displays  the  genius  of  the  author.  .  The 
work  proposed  could  not  be  done  by  one  man,  nor  by  one 
age ;  for  every  new  addition  to  the  stock  of  human  knowl- 
edge, as  Bacon  plainly  saw,  would  modify  the  conclusions, 
though  confirming  the  soundness  of  his  method. 

The  Instauratio  was  to  consist  of  six  parts,  of  which 
the  following  is  a  short  synopsis : 

I.  Part-it iones   Scientiarum.      This  work   includes   his 
earlier  treatise  on  The  Advancement  of  Learning,  and  gives 
a  general  summary  and  classification  of  human  knowledge, 
with  indications  of  those  branches  in  which  science  was 
specially  defective. 

II.  Nov-um  Organum.    This  "  new  instrument"  he  de- 
scribes as  "  the  science  of  a  better  and  more  perfect  use  of 
reason  in  the  investigation  of  things,  and  of  the  true  aids  of 
the  understanding."    It  sets  forth  the  methods  to  be  adopted 
in  searching  after  truth,  points  out  the  principal  sources  of 
error  in  former  times,  and  suggests  the  means  of  avoiding 
errors  in  the  future.     Of  the  nine  sections  into  which  this 
part  of  the  work  was  divided,  only  the  first  was  fully  dis- 
cussed. 

III.  Historia  Naturalis.     This  part  was  designed  to  be 
a  collection  of  well-observed  facts  and  experiments  in  what 
we  call  Natural  Philosophy  and  Natural  History,  and  was  to 


120  BACOX. 

furnish  the  raw  material  to  be  used  in  the  new  method. 
Bacon's  Sylva  Sylvarum  is  a  specimen  of  the  work  he  would 
have  done  in  this  division  of  his  Instauratio.  His  History 
of  the  Winds,  of  Life  and  Death,  are  also  contributions  to 
this  division. 

IV.  Scala  Intettectus,  the  ladder  of  the  mind.      This 
fourth  part  was  to  give  rules  for  the  gradual  ascent  of  the 
mind  from  particular  instances  or  phenomena  to  principles 
more  and  more  abstract. 

V.  Prodtomi.    Prophecies,   or    anticipations    "of  truths 
"hereafter  to  be  verified/'   were  to    have   furnished    the 
material  for  this  part 

VI.  Philosophia  Secunda.     This  was  intended  to  be  the 
record  of  practical  results  springing  from  the  application 
of  the  new  method. 

But  a  small  portion  of  the  magnificent  plan  was  exe- 
cuted. The  founder  himself  presented  no  claims  to  the 
rank  of  a  discoverer.  His  genius  as  a  philosopher  is  dis- 
played only  in  the  comprehensiveness  of  his  scheme,  in 
the  masterly  way  in  which  he  lays  out  work  for  his  own  day 
and  for  later  generations.  His  greatness  as  a  mail  appears 
in  the  incisiveness  and  discrimination  of  his  thinking,  in  his 
brave  declaration  of  the  cause  of  fruitlessness  in  former 
philosophy,  and  in  the  sublime  conviction  which  prompted 
him  to  urge  the  improved  method  of  investigation,  and  to 
foretell  what  the  future  would  bring.  His  keen  thinking 
made  him  the  eminent  critic  of  errors  that  had  been ;  his 
imagination  made  him  the  glowing  prophet  of  the  glory  that 
was  to  be. 

His  admirers  overstate  his  work  in  the  study  of  nature. 
They  find  him  the  first  to  expose  the  childish  wisdom  of  his 
predecessors,  the  first  to  announce  the  new  era,  the  first  to 
expound  the  method  by  which  the  changes  were  to  be 
brought  about.  The  succeeding  progress  w'as  in  accordance 
with  his  prophecy ;  the  method  was  his,  and  therefore  the 


BACON.  127 

modern  reader  is  misled  into  calling  Bacon  the  Father  of 
Modern  Philosophy.  As  Craik  says,  "  The  mistake  is  the 
same  as  if  it  were  to  be  said  that  Aristotle  was  the  father  of 
poetry."  Aristotle  first  enunciated  the  laws  by  which  poetry 
is  written;  Bacon  enunciated  the  laws  by  which  discoveries 
in  nature  are  made. 

Twenty  centuries  had  elapsed  after  Aristotle  had  shown 
his  method  of  searching  after  truth  before  Bacon  undertook 
to  introduce  a  new  method.  Aristotle  made  thought  active; 
Bacon  aimed  to  make  it  useful.  Aristotle  made  logic  the 
fundamental  science,  and  considered  metaphysics  of  greater 
importance  than  physics.  His  theory,  carried  into  practice, 
produced  twenty  centuries  of  fruitlessness ;  two  centuries 
and  a  half  of  Bacon's  theory  in  practice,  have  revolutionized 
the  literary,  the  commercial,  the  political,  the  religious,  the 
scientific  world.  The  ancients  had  a  philosophy  of  words ; 
Bacon  called  for  a  philosophy  of  works.  His  glory  is 
founded  upon  a  union  of  speculative  power  with  practical 
utility,  which  were  never  so  combined  before.  He  neg- 
lected nothing  as  too  small,  despised  nothing  as  too  low,  by 
which  our  happiness  could  be  augmented;  in  him,  above 
all,  were  combined  boldness  and  prudence,  the  intensest 
enthusiasm,  and  the  plainest  common  sense. 

It  is  probable  that  Bacon  generally  wrote  the  first  sketch 
of  his  works  in  English,  but  afterwards  caused  them  to  be 
translated  into  Latin,  which  was  in  his  time  the  language  of 
science,  and  even  of  diplomacy.  He  is  reported  to  have 
employed  the  services  of  many  young  men  of  learning  as 
secretaries  and  translators ;  among  these  the  most  remark- 
able is  Hobbes,  afterwards  so  celebrated  as  the  author  of  the 
Leviathan.  The  style,  in  which  the  Latin  books  of  the  In- 
stauratio  were  given  to  the  world,  though  certainly  not  a 
model  of  classical  purity,  is  weighty,  vigorous,  and  pic- 
turesque. 

Bacon's  writings  in  English  are  numerous.     The  most 


128  BACON. 

important  among  them  is  the  volume  of  Essays,  or  Counsels 
Civil  and  Moral  (58-GI),  of  which  the  first  edition,  con- 
taining ten  essays,  was  published  in  1597.  The  number 
gradually  increased  to  fifty-eight,  many  of  the  later  ones 
giving  expression  to  the  author's  profoundest  thought  and 
richest  fancy.  These  short  papers  discuss  various  subjects, 
from  grave  questions  of  morals  down  to  the  most  trifling 
accomplishments.  As  specimens  of  intellectual  activity,  of 
original  thinking  and  aptness  of  illustration,  they  surpass 
any  other  writing  of  equal  extent  in  our  literature.*  They 
illustrate  the  author's  comprehensiveness  of  mind,  and 
his  wonderful  power  of  condensing  thought.  In  his 
style  there  is  the  same  quality  which  is  applauded  in 
Shakespeare  —  a  combination  of  the  intellectual  and  im- 
aginative, the  closest  reasoning  in  the  boldest  meta- 
phor. It  is  this  that  renders  both  the  dramatist  and 
the  philosopher  at  once  the  richest  and  the  most  concise 
of  writers.  Many  of  Bacon's  essays — as  the  inimitable 
one  on  studies — are  absolutely  oppressive  from,  the  power 
of  thought  compressed  into  the  smallest  possible  com- 
pnss.  It  is  through  his  Essays  that  Bacon  is  most  widely 
known  (58-61).  "Coming  home,"  as  he  says  him- 
self, '•'  to  men's  business  and  bosoms,"  they  gained,  even 
in  his  own  time,  an  extensive  popularity,  which  they  still 
retain. 

In  his  Wisdom  of  tlte  Ancients  he  endeavored  to  explain 
the  political  and  moral  truths  concealed  in  the  mythology 
of  classical  ages,  and  exhibited  an  ingenuity  which  Macaulay 
calls  morbid.  His  unfinished  romance,  The  Neiv  Atlantis, 
was  intended  to  set  forth  the  fulfilment  of  his  dreams  of  a 
philosophical  millennium.  He  also  wrote  a  History  of 
Henry  VII.,  and  a  vast  number  of  state-papers,  judicial 


*  "Few  books  are  more  quoted.  *  *  *  It  would  be  somewhat  derogatory  to 
a  man  of  the  slightest  claim  to  polite  letters  were  he  unacquainted  with  the  E*say» 
of  Bacon."—  Hallam. 


Ul  J5 

o=.   a, 


z  A 

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uj  i 

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NON-DRAMATIC.  -1 


POETa 


Thomas  Sackville, 
Sir  Philip  Sidney, 
Edmund  Spenser, 
Walter  Raleigh. 


PROSE   WRITERS  J 


[The   Dawn   of  the   Drama.] 

John  Lyly, 
George  Peele, 
Thomas  Kyd, 
Robert  Greene, 
Christopher  Marlowe, 
DRAMATIC.       \  William  Shakespeare, 
Ben  Jonson, 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher 
Philip  Massinger, 
John  Ford, 
John  Webster. 

Walter  Raleigh,  the  Historian. 
Richard  Hooker,  the  Churchman 
Francis  Bacon,  the  Philosopher.': 


BACON.  129 

decisions,  and  other  professional  writings.  All  these  are 
marked  by  a  vigorous  and  ornamented  style,  and  are  among 
the  finest  specimens  of  the  prose  literature  of  that  age. 

For  more  extended  reading  on  this  topic  consult  Macanlay's  essay  on  Bacon, 
Whipple's  essays  in  The  Literature  of  the  Age  of  Elizabeth,  Lewes'e  Biographical 
History  of  Philosophy,  Hallam's  Literature  of  Europe,  The  Baconian  Philosophy,  by 
Tjler,  Fischer's  Bacon  and  His  Tim«&. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

tS 

THE  SO-CALLED  METAPHYSICAL  POETS.'' 

A  I/THOUGH  the  literature  of  the  seventeenth  century  indicate* 
•^-*-  no  marvellous  outburst  of  creative  power,  it  has  yet  left  deep 
and  enduring  traces  upon  the  English  thought  and  upon  the  Eng- 
lish language.  The  influences  of  the  time  produced  a  style  of 
writing  in  which  intellect  and  fancy  played  a  greater  part  than 
imagination  or  passion.  Samuel  Johnson  styled  the  poets  of  that 
century  the  metaphysical  school;  that  tendency  to  intellectual 
subtilty  which  appears  in  the  prose  and  verse  of  the  Elizabethan 
writers,  and  occasionally  extends  its  contagion  to  Shakespeare  him- 
self, became  with  them  a  controlling  principle.  As  a  natural  con- 
sequence, they  allowed  ingenuity  to  gain  undue  predominance  over 
feeling;  and  in  their  search  for  odd,  recondite,  and  striking  illus- 
trations they  were  guilty  of  frequent  and  flagrant  violations  of 
reason.  ToAvards  the  close  of  the  period  Milton  is  a  grand  and 
solitary  representative  of  poets  of  the  first  order.  He  owed  little  to 
his  contemporaries.  They  were  chiefly  instrumental  in  generating 
the  pseudo-correct  and  artificial  manner  which  characterizes  the 
classical  writers  of  the  early  part  of  the  eighteenth  century. 

John  Donne  (1573-1631)  has  been  mentioned  already  among 
our  first  satirists.  He  was  a  representative  of  the  highest  type  of 
the  extravagances  of  his  age  (5O).  His  ideal  of  poetical  compo- 
sition was  fulfilled  by  clothing  every  thought  in  a  series  of  analo- 
gies, always  remote,  often  repulsive  and  inappropriate.  His 
versification  is  singularly  harsh  and  tuneless,  and  the  crudeness  of 
his  expression  is  in  unpleasant  contrast  with  the  ingenuity  of  his 
thinking.  In  his  own  day  his  reputation  was  very  high.  "Rare 
Ben"  pronounced  him  "  the  first  poet  in  the  world  in  some  things," 
but  declared  that  "  for  not  being  understood  he  would  perish." 
This  prophecy  was  confirmed  by  public  opinion  in  the  eighteenth 


E  D  M  U  X  D     W  A  L  L  E  R  .  131 

century,  but  has  been  somewhat  modified  by  the  criticism  of  our 
day,  which  discovers  much  genuine  poetical  sentiment  beneath  the 
faults  of  taste.  His  writings  certainly  give  evidence  of  rich,  pro- 
found, and  varied  learning. 

Donne's  early  manhood  was  passed  in  company  with  the  famous 
wits  of  the  Mermaid  Tavern.  The  chief  productions  of  his  youth- 
ful muse  were  his  Satires,  the  Metempsychosis,  and  a  series  of  amatory 
poems.  When  forty-two  years  of  age,  he  was  ordained  as  a  priest 
in  the  Church  of  England.  He  soon  became  a  famous  preacher, 
and  was  appointed  Dean  of  St.  Paul's. 

Favoring  circumstances  rather  than  substantial  desert  give 
Edmund  Waller  (160-5-16S?)  his  prominent  position  in  the  literary 
and  political  history  of  his  time.  From  his  youth  his  associations 
were  with  that  polished  society  which  could  at  once  appreciate  and 
develop  his  varied  talents.  Versatility,  brilliant  wit,  graceful  and 
fascinating  manners,  and  an  underlying  fund  of  time  -  serving 
shrewdness  gained  him  political  distinction,  and  made  him  a  social 
idol.  But  his  character  was  timid  and  selfish  ;  and  his  principles 
were  modified  by  every  change  that  affected  his  own  interests. 
Unfortunately  for  him  he  was  a  relative  of  Cromwell  and  a  member 
of  the  Long  Parliament.  Although  constrained  by  policy  to  avow 
the  republican  principles  of  the  Puritans,  he  was  at  heart  a  royalist, 
and  lost  no  opportunity  of  secretly  abetting  the  Stuart  cause.  His 
consummate  adroitness  long  averted  the  consequences  of  this 
double-dealing ;  but  in  1643  he  was  convicted  of  a  plot  for 
restoring  the  authority  of  Charles  I.  Severe  penalties  were  inflicted 
upon  him,  and  he  bowed  to  them  in  abject  submission.  The 
Restoration  renewed  his  prosperity,  and  he  promptly  panegyrized 
Charles  II.  with  the  same  fervor  which  had  marked  his  encomiums 
of  the  Protector.  He  died  shortly  after  the  accession  of  James  II., 
having,  with  characteristic  sagacity,  foretold  the  ruinous  issues  of 
that  monarch's  policy. 

Most  of  Waller's  poems  are  the  verses  of  love  (1OY),  addressed 
to  Lady  Dorothy  Sidney,  whom  he  long  wooed  under  the  name  of 
Sacharissa.  Playfulness  of  fancy,  uniform  elegance  of  expression 
and  melody,  which  are  the  chief  merits  of  his  verses,  can  scarcely 
atone  for  their  lack  of  enthusiasm.  Two  eulogies  of  Cromwell,  one 
composed  during  the  Commonwealth,  the  other  after  the  Protector's 
death,  contain  passages  of  dignity  aud  power.  He  was  less  felici- 


132  A  BE  AH  A  51     COWLET. 

tous  in  a  poem  on  Divine  love,  and  in  his  longer  work,  The  Battls 
of  the  Summer  Islands,  which  describes  in  a  half-serious,  half-comic 
strain  an  attack  upon  two  stranded  whales  in  the  Bermudas. 

In  his  own  day  and  by  the  succeeding  generation,  Waller  was 
thought  to  have  perfected  the  art  of  expressing  graceful  and  sensible 
ideas  in  clear  and  harmonious  language.  Both  Dryden  and  Pope 
have  acknowledged  their  obligations  to  his  influence  as  the  "  Maker 
and  model  of  melodious  verse."  But  his  fame  rested  on  the 
mechanical  perfections  of  his  style  and  on  the  good  taste  which 
avoided  striking  faults,  rather  than  on  the  power  of  imagination 
which  is  the  main  source  of  positive  beauty  and  enduring  interest 
in  poetry.  At  the  present  day  his  works  are  little  read. 

Abraham  Cowley  (1618-1667)  was  the  most  popular  English 
poet  of  his  time.  He  affords  a  remarkable  instance  of  intellectual 
precocity ;  when  a  mere  child  he  had  a  passionate  admiration  for 
the  Faery  Queene,  and  his  first  poems  were  published  when  he  was 
only  fifteen  years  of  age.  After  a  residence  of  seven  years  at  Cam- 
bridge, whence  he  was  ejected  on  account  of  his  being  a  royalist, 
he  studied  at  Oxford  until  that  town  was  occupied  by  the  Parlia- 
mentary forces.  He  then  joined  Queen  Henrietta,  the  wife  of 
Charles  I.,  who  was  residing  in  France ;  and  he  remained  upon  the 

Continent  for  nearly  twelve  years,  exerting  all  his  energies 
1660]  in  behalf  of  the  house  of  Stuart.  When  the  Restoration 

was  accomplished  and  his  fidelity  and  self-sacrifice  were 
forgotten  by  worthless  Charles  II.,  Cowley  resolved  "to  retire  to 
some  of  the  American  plantations  and  forsake  the  world  forever ; " 
but  he  abandoned  this  purpose  and  settled  in  rural  life  at  Chertsey 
on  the  Thames.  He  received  a  lease  of  lands  belonging  to  the 
Crown,  and  from  it  he  derived  a  moderate  revenue,  which  secured 
him  against  actual  want. 

Cowley  was  highly  esteemed  as  a  scholar,  a  poet  and  an 
essayist.  Extensive  and  well-digested  reading,  sound  sense  and 
genial  feeling,  joined  to  a  pure  and  natural  expression,  render 
his  prose  works  very  entertaining.  As  a  poet  he  exhibits  the  bad 
qualities  of  the  metaphysical  school  in  their  most  attractive  form. 
He  has  not  poetic  passion ;  he  seems  to  be  ever  on  the  alert  for 
striking  analogies,  and  when  he  finds  one  he  shows  the  electric 
spark  of  wit,  rather  than  the  fervent  glow  of  genius.  This  fantastic 
play  of  the  intellect  displaces  the  natural  outpouring  of  feeling 


SIR     WILLIAM     DAVESANT.  133 

even  in  the  collection  of  his  amatory  verses  called  The  Mistress. 
The  Anacreontics  exhibit  his  poetical  powers  to  better  advantage  ; 
their  tone  is  joyous  and  spirited,  and  they  abound  in  images  of 
natural  and  poetic  beauty.  He  planned  and  began  a  work  of  great 
pretensions,  entitled  the  Davideis.  It  was  intended  to  celebrate 
the  sufferings  and  glories  of  the  King  of  Israel ;  but  it  was  left 
unfinished  and  is  now  utterly  neglected.  His  talents  were  lyric, 
rather  than  epic,  and  he  was  therefore  not  qualified  to  develop  so 
grand  a  theme  in  a  masterly  way. 

Cowley  deeply  sympathized  with  the  mighty  revolution  in 
philosophy  which  was  inaugurated  by  Bacon  ;  and  perhaps  the 
finest  of  his  poems  are  those  which  with  grave  and  well-adorned 
eloquence  proclaim  the  nature  and  predict  the  triumph  of  the 
reforms  in  physical  science.* 

Donne,  the  founder  of  "  the  Metaphysical  School,"  and  his  two 
disciples  who  have  been  named,  "Waller  and  Cowley,  were  the  most 
prominent  literary  figures  and  the  most  influential  and  popular 
writers  in  the  generation  immediately  after  the  Elizabethan  period. 
Davenant  and  Denham  held  secondary,  but  important  positions. 

Sir  William  Davenant  (1605-1668)  derives  his  chief  claim  upon 
posterity  from  his  connection  with  the  revival  of  the  drama  at  the 
termination  of  the  Puritan  rule.  He  succeeded  Ben  Jonson  in  the 
office  of  Poet  Laureate,  and  during  the  reign  of  Charles  I.  was 
manager  of  the  Court  Theatre.  An  energetic  and  useful  partisan 
of  the  Cavaliers,  his  share  in  the  intrigues  of  the  Civil  War  had 
nearly  brought  him  to  the  scaffold ;  but  his  life  was  saved  by  the 
intercession  of  some  influential  Puritan  whom  tradition  asserts 
to  have  been  John.  Milton.  After  the  Restoration,  Davenant 
flourished  under  royal  favor,  continuing  to  write  dramas  and  to 
superintend  their  performance,  until  his  death.  The  French  drama, 
in  its  most  artificial  and  frivolous  type,  was  the  ideal  of  Charles  II. 
and  of  his  court.  French  influence  revolutionized  the  English 
stage.  Actresses,  young,  beautiful,  and  skilful,  took  the  places  filled 
by  the  boys  of  the  Elizabethan  era.f  In  every  respect  the  mechanical 
adjuncts  of  the  drama  were  improved.  It  is  easy  to  see  in  Dave- 
nant's  own  plays  and  in  those  which  he  remodeled,  how  completely 

*  "  Botany,  in  the  mind  of  Cowley,  turned  into  poetry."— Samuel  Johnson. 
t  The  first  English  actress  appeared  on  the  stage  in  the  play  of  Othello,  in  the 
reign  of  Charles  II.,  1661. 


134  SIB     J  0  U  X     D  E  X  H  A  M  . 

the  taste  for  BJ.  letidor  of  scenery,  music,  dancing  and  costuinery, 
had  displaced  the  passion  of  the  earlier  public  for  faithful  and 
intense  picturing  of  life  and  nature.  He  was  an  ardent  worshiper 
of  the  genius  of  Shakespeare  and  of  Shakespeare's  great  contem- 
poraries; yet  conformity  to  the  degraded  standard  of  the  age 
obliged  him,  in  attempting  to  revive  their  works,  to  transform  their 
spirit  so  entirely  that  every  intelligent  reader  must  regard  the 
change  with  disgust.  Davenant's  most  popular  dramas  were,  The 
Siege  of  Rhodes,  The  Law  Against  Lovers,  The  Cruel  Brotlier  and 
Albovine.  His  partisan  writings  were  numerous  and  spirited.  He 
received  rapturous  praise  and  fierce  criticism  from  his  contem- 
poraries for  an  unfinished  epic  called  Gondibert  (108),  in  which 
a  long  series  of  lofty  and  chivalrous  adventures  are  told  in  dignified 
but  somewhat  monotonous  style. 

Sir  John  Denham  (1615-1668)  was  indifferent  to  learning  in 
his  youth,  and  throughout  his  life  was  addicted  to  the  vice  of 
gambling.  No  one  had  expected  aught  from  him  that  would  be 
worthy  of  a  place  in  literature  ;  but  at  twenty-six  years  of  age  he 
published  a  tragedy  which  won  the  applause  of  the  critic  and  of 
the  public.  Two  years  later,  his  poem  called  Coopers  Hill  appeared 
(1O9).  That  poem  established  his  fame.  It  contains  passages 
of  fine  description,  and  suggests  many  beautiful  thoughts  con- 
cerning the  landscape  near  Windsor.  Denham's  language  is 
pure  and  perspicuous,  and  is  free  from  the  fantastic  metaphors 
abounding  in  the  writings  of  his  contemporaries.  Dryden  is 
thought  to  have  been  influenced  by  the  regularity  and  vigor  of 
Denham's  verse. 

In  this  age  of  artificial  poets  there  were  many  who  were  inter- 
ested in  the  religious  agitations  of  the  Puritan  and  the  Cavalier. 
We  can  mention  but  four  of  them.  George  Wither  was  in  thorough 

w  o 

sympathy  with  the  political  and  religious  sentiments  of  Oliver 
Cromwell.  He  was  a  prolific  writer  in  both  prose  and  verse.  The 
modern  critics  have  given  him  more  praise  than  former  generations 
have  considered  his  due.  His  prose  attracts  little  attention.  His 
pastoral  poetry  abounds  in  melody  and  in  beauty  of  sentiment. 
His  Hymns  and  Songs  of  the  Church,  and  his  Hallelujah,  display  his 
religious  thought  in  worthy  form.  The  whimsical  conceits  of  the 
poetry  of  his  day  are  occasionally  found  in  his  pages,  but  his  style 
is  generally  simple,  and  expressive  of  natural  and  earnest  feeling. 


QUARLES,  HERBERT,  CRASH  AW.      135 

Abuses  Stript  and  Whipt  was  the  title  of  his  most  famous  satire, 
written  in  1614.  For  that  satire  he  was  imprisoned. 

Francis  Qtmrles  (1592-1644),  was  an  ardent  royalist.  He 
exhibits  many  points  of  intellectual  likeness  to  Wither,  to  whom, 
however,  he  is  inferior  in  poetical  sentiment.  His  most  popular 
work  was  a  collection  of  Divine  EmUems,  in  which  moral  and 
religious  precepts  are  inculcated  in  short  poems  of  almost  laughable 
quaintness,  and  illustrated  by  equally  grotesque  engravings. 

George  Herbert  (1593-1632)  and  Richard  Crashaw  (died  1650) 
exemplify  the  exaltation  of  religious  sentiment;  and  both  are 
worthy  of  admiration,  not  only  as  Christian  poets,  but  as  good  and 
pious  priests.  Herbert  was  of  noble  birth.  He  first  distinguished 
himself  by  the  graces  and  accomplishments  of  the  courtly  scholar ; 
but  afterwards  entering  the  Church  as  rector  of  a  country  parish, 
lie  exhibited  all  the  virtues  which  can  adorn  the  calling  which  he 
has  beautifully  described  in  a  prose  treatise  under  the  title  of  The 
Country  Parson.  His  poems  are  principally  short  religious  lyrics, 
combining  pious  aspiration  with  frequent  and  beautiful  pictures  of 
nature  (99).  He  decorates  the  altar  with  the  sweetest  and  most 
fragrant  flowers  of  fancy  and  of  wit.  Although  not  entirely  devoid 
of  that  perverted  ingenuity  which  deformed  Quarles  and  "Wither, 
his  most  successful  efforts  almost  attain  the  perfection  of  devotional 
poetry, — a  calm  yet  ardeat  glow,  a  well-governed  fervor  which 
eeems  peculiarly  to  belong  to  the  Church  of  which  he  was  a 
minister.  His  collection  of  sacred  lyrics  is  entitled,  The  Temple ; 
or  Sacred  Poems  and  Private  Ejaculations. 

Crashaw  was  reared  in  the  Anglican  Church ;  but  during  the 
Puritan  troubles  he  embraced  the  Romish  faith  and  became  canon 
of  the  Cathedral  at  Loretto.  That  he  possessed  an  exquisite  fancy, 
great  talent  for  producing  melody  of  verse,  and  that  magnetic 
power  over  the  reader  which  springs  from  deep  earnestness,  no 
one  can  deny  (1OO).  The  most  favorable  specimens  of  his  poetry 
are  the  Steps  to  the  Temple,  and  the  beautiful  description  entitled 
Music's  Dud. 

In  the  social  life  of  the  first  half  of  this  seventeenth  century  the 
gallant  and  frivolous  Cavalier  stands  in  contrast  with  the  stern, 
serious  Puritan.  In  its  literature,  romantic  love  and  airy  elegance 
appear  beside  the  reverent  sentiments  of  religious  poetry.  The 


136   HERRICR,    SUCKLING,   LOVELACE,   CAREW. 

best  representatives  of  the  gayer  poets  are  Robert  Herrick  (1591^ 
1674)  (1O1),  Sir  John  Suckling  (1609-1641)  (1O2),  Sir  Richard 
Lovelace  (1618-1658)  (1O3),  and  Thomas  Carew  1589-1639) 
(1O4).  Herrick,  after  beginning  his  life  in  the  brilliant  and  some- 
what debauched  literary  society  of  the  town  and  the  theatre, 
took  orders;  but  he  continued  to  exhibit  in  his  -writings  the 
voluptuous  spirit  of  his  youth.  His  poems  were  published  under 
the  names  of  Hesperides  and  Noble  Numbers.  They  are  all  lyric,  and 
the  former  are  principally  songs  concerning  love  and  wine;  the 
latter  are  upon  sacred  subjects.  In  him  we  find  the  strangest 
mixture  of  sensual  coarseness  with  exquisite  refinement ;  yet  in  fancy, 
in  spirit,  in  musical  rhythm,  he  is  never  deficient. 

Suckling  and  Lovelace  are  representative  Cavalier  poets ;  both 
suffered  in  the  royal  cause ;  both  exemplify  the  spirit  of  loyalty  to 
the  king,  and  of  gallantry  to  the  ladies.  Suckling's  best  pro- 
duction is  the  exquisite  Ballad  Upon  a  Wedding,  in  which,  assuming 
the  character  of  a  rustic,  he  describes  a  fashionable  marriage. 
Lovelace  is  more  serious  and  earnest  than  Suckling ;  his  lyrics 
breathe  devoted  loyalty  rather  than  the  passionate,  half-jesting  love- 
fancies  of  his  rival.  Such  are  the  beautiful  lines  to  Althea,  com- 
posed while  the  author  was  in  prison. 

Carew's  lyrics  reflect  the  same  spirit  as  Suckling's.  His  Inquiry, 
his  Primrose,  and  his  "  He  that  Loves  a  Rosy  Cheek  "  have  all  the 
grace,  vivacity  and  elegance  which  should  characterize  such  work* 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

THEOLOGICAL   WRITERS    OF   THE    CIVIL   WAR   AND   THE   COM- 
MONWEALTH. 

rpHE  Civil  War  of  the  seventeenth  century  was  a  religious  a3 
-*-'  well  as  a  political  contest ;  and  the  prose  literature  of  that 
time,  therefore,  exhibits  a  strong  religious  character.  The  Church 
of  England  exhibited  her  most  glorious  outburst  of  theological 
eloquence  in  the  writings  of  Jeremy  Taylor,  Barrow,  and  the  other 
great  Anglican  Fathers ;  and  in  the  ranks  of  the  dissenters  many 
remarkable  men  appeared,  hardly  inferior  to  the  churchmen  in 
learning  and  genius,  and  fully  equal  in  sincerity  and  enthusiasm. 

William  Chillingworth  (1603-1644),  an  eminent  defender  of 
Protestantism  against  the  Church  of  Rome,  was  converted  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  religion  while  studying  at  Oxford,  and  went  to  the 
Jesuits'  College  at  Douay.  He  subsequently  returned  to  Oxford, 
renounced  his  new  faith,  and  published  his  celebrated  work  against 
Catholicism,  entitled  The  Religion  of  the  Protestants  a  Safe  Way  to 
Salvation  (113).  This  has  been  esteemed  a  model  of  perspicuous 
logic.  "His  chief  excellence,"  says  Mr.  Hall  am,  "is  the  close 
reasoning  which  avoids  every  dangerous  admission,  and  yields  to 
no  ambiguousness  of  language.  In  later  times  his  book  obtained  a 
high  reputation ;  he  was  called  the  immortal  Chillingworth ;  he 
was  the  favorite  of  all  the  moderate  and  the  latitudinarian  writers, 
of  Tillotson,  Locke,  and  Warburton." 

The  writings  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne  (1605-1682),  though  mis- 
cellaneous rather  than  theological,  belong,  chronologically  as 
well  as  by  their  style,  to  this  department  (114).  He  was  an 
exceedingly  learned  man,  and  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  life 
in  practising  physic  in  the  ancient  city  of  Norwich.  Among  the 
most  popular  of  his  works  are  the  treatise  on  Hydrio  tevphia,  or  Urn- 


138  THOMAS     FULLER. 

Burial,  and  essays  on  Vulgar  Errors,  or  Pseudodoxia  Epidemica.  But 
the  book  which  affords  the  most  satisfactory  insight  into  his  char- 
acter is  the  Relitjio  Medici,  a  species  of  confession  of  faith  which 
gives  a  minute  account  of  his  own  religious  and  philosophical 
opinions.  These  writings  are  the  frank  outpourings  of  one  of  the 
most  eccentric  and  original  minds  that  ever  existed.  They  show 
varied  and  recondite  reading ;  and  their  facts  and  suggestions  are 
blended  and  vitalized  by  a  strong  and  fervent  imagination.  At 
every  step  some  extraordinary  theory  is  illustrated  by  unexpected 
analogies,  and  the  style  is  bristling  with  quaint  Latinisms,  which  in 
another  writer  would  be  pedantic,  but  in  Browne  seem  the  natural 
garb  of  thought.  All  this  makes  him  one  of  the  most  fascinating 
of  authors ;  and  he  frequently  rises  to  a  sombre  and  touching 
eloquence. 

Thomas  Fuller  (1608-1661)  has  in  some  respects  an  intellectual 
resemblance  to  Browne.  Educated  at  Cambridge,  he  entered  the 
Church,  and  soon  rendered  himself  conspicuous  in  the  pulpit.  At 
the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  he  incurred  the  displeasure  of  both 
factions  by  his  studied  moderation  ;  but  was  for  a  time  attached  as 
chaplain  to  the  Royalist  army.  During  his  campaigning  Fuller 
industriously  collected  the  materials  for  his  most  popular  work,  the 
Worthies  of  England  and  Wales.  This,  more  than  his  Church  His- 
t&ry,  has  made  his  name  known  to  posterity.  His  Sermons  exhibit 
peculiarities  of  style  which  render  him  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
writers  of  his  age  (115).  His  writings  are  ever  amusing,  not  only 
fron  the  multitude  of  curious  details,  but  also  from  the  quaint  yet 
frequently  profound  reflections  suggested  by  these  details.  The 
Worthies  contains  biographical  notices  of  eminent  Englishmen,  with 
descriptions  of  the  botany,  scenery,  antiquities,  and  other  matters 
of  interest  connected  with  their  shires.  It  is  an  invaluable  treasury 
of  racy  and  interesting  anecdotes.  Of  whatever  subject  Fuller 
treats,  he  places  it  in  so  many  novel  and  piquant  lights  that  the 
attention  of  the  reader  is  constantly  stimulated.  One  source  of  his 
picturesqueness  is  his  frequent  use  of  antithesis ;  not  a  bare  oppo- 
sition of  words,  but  the  juxtaposition  of  apparently  discordant 
ideas,  from  whose  sudden  contact  there  flashes  forth  the  spark  of 
wit.  But  the  spark  is  always  warmed  by  a  glow  of  sympathy  and 
tenderness ;  for  there  is  no  gloom  in  Fuller's  thought.  The  genial 
flash  of  his  fancy  brightens  the  gravest  topics. 


JEEEMY     TAYLOR.  139 

The  greatest  theological  writer  of  the  English  Church  at  this 
period  was  Jeremy  Taylor  (1613-1667).  He  was  a  thoroughly 
educated  man,  and  from  his  early  years  was  conspicuous  on  account 
of  his  talents  and  his  learning.  He  entered  the  service  of  the 
Church,  and  is  said,  by  his  youthful  eloquence,  to  have  attracted 
the  notice  of  Archbishop  Laud,  who  made  him  one  of  his  chap- 
lains, and  procured  him  a  fellowship  in  All  Souls'  College,  Oxford. 
During  the  Civil  War  he  stood  high  in  the  favor  of  the  Cavaliers 
and  the  Court.  After  the  downfall  of  the  king,  Taylor  taught  a 
school,  lor  a  time,  in  Wales,  and  continued  to  take  an  active  part  in 
religious  controversies.  His  opinions  were  of  course  obnoxious  to 
the  dominant  party,  and  on  several  occasions  subjected  him  to 
imprisonment.  At  the  Restoration  he  was  made  a  bishop,  and 
during  the  short  time  that  he  held  the  office  he  exhibited  the 
brightest  qualities  that  can  adorn  the  episcopal  dignity. 

Taylor's  writings  deal  with  sacred  thoughts.  In  order  to  be 
reverent  towards  his  subject,  he  did  not  find  it  necessary  to  curb  his 
fancy,  or  to  quench  his  rhetorical  fervor.  His  style  is  uniformly 
magnificent  and  impressive,  and  his  periods  roll  on  with  a  soft  yet 
mighty  swell,  often  having  somewhat  of  the  charm  of  verse.  Jef- 
frey called  him  li  the  most  Shakespearean  of  our  great  divines ; "  but 
it  would  be  more  appropriate  to  compare  him  to  Spenser.  He  has 
the  same  pictorial  fancy,  the  same  harmony  of  arrangement  as 
Spenser,  and  lacks  the  energy  and  the  profound  philosophy  of  the 
great  dramatist,  though  like  him,  he  draws  his  illustrations  from 
the  most  familiar  objects,  and  knows  how  to  paint  the  terrible  and 
the  sublime  as  well  as  the  tender  and  affecting.  Together  with 
Spenser's  sweetness  he  has  somewhat  of  the  languor  of  Spenser's 
style.  His  intense  study  of  ancient  authors  seems  to  have  infected 
him  with  their  Oriental  and  imaginative  mode  of  thought.  In  his 
scholarly  writing  there  may  be  an  occasional  indication  of  pedantry  ; 
in  his  religious  life  there  is  no  cant,  no  hypocrisy.  He  was  nearer 
abreast  the  truth  than  any  former  religious  man  of  letters  had  been. 
In  argument,  in  exhortation,  he  writes  with  the  freedom  and 
exuberance  of  his  honest,  happy  soul.  This  man,  with  the  genial 
style  springing  from  his  happy  nature,  is  a  most  interesting  char- 
acter among  polemical  writers.  His  geniality  did  not  prevent  his 
being  firm  in  his  convictions.  Living  in  an  age  when  convictions 
had  to  be  maintained  against  assaults,  even  Jeremy  Taylor  was 


140  JEEEMT     TAYLOK. 

compelled  to  enter  the  arena  with  other  thinkers.  His  polemical 
writings  are  unique.  They  are  free  from  personal  abuse ;  they  are 
as  broad  in  spirit  as  they  are  lofty  in  style.  They  are  thoroughly 
benevolent.  His  style  is  unfit  for  the  close  reasoning  of  the 
polemic.  His  wanton  fancy  will  beguile  him  from  the  direct  line 
of  an  argument. 

The  best  known  of  Taylor's  controversial  writings  is  the  treatise 
On  the  Liberty  of  Prophesying.  That  work  gives  him  the  glory  of 
being  the  one  who  put  forth  the  "  first  famous  plea  for  tolerance  in 
religion,  on  a  comprehensive  basis  and  on  deep-seated  foun- 
dations." *  Although  intended  by  Taylor  to  secure  indulgence  for 
the  persecuted  Episcopal  preachers,  it  is,  of  course,  equally  appli- 
cable to  the  teachers  of  all  forms  of  religion.  An  Apology  for  Fixed 
and  Set  Forms  of  Worship  was  an  elaborate  defence  of  the  noble 
ritual  of  the  Anglican  Church.  Among  his  works  of  a  disciplinary 
and  practical  tendency  may  be  mentioned  The  Life  of  Christ,  or  the 
Great  Exemplar,  in  which  the  scattered  details  of  the  Evangelists 
and  the  Fathers  are  co-ordinated  in  a  continuous  narrative.  Still 
more  popular  than  these  are  the  two  admirable  treatises,  On  the  Rule 
and  Exercises  of  Holy  Living,  and  On  the  Rule  and  Exercise  of  Holy 
Dying,  which  mutually  correspond  to  and  complete  each  other. 
The  least  admirable  of  Taylor's  productions  is  the  Ductor  DuU- 
tantium,  a  treatise  on  questions  of  casuistry.  His  Sermons  are  very 
numerous,  and  are  among  the  most  eloquent,  learned,  and  powerful 
in  the  whole  range  of  Christian  literature.  As  in  his  character, 
so  in  his  writings,  Taylor  is  the  ideal  of  an  Anglican  pastor ;  in 
both  he  exemplifies  the  union  of  intellectual  vigor  and  originality 
with  practical  simplicity  and  fervor. 

Many  men  eminent  for  learning,  piety,  and  zeal,  appeared  in  the 
ranks  of  the  Nonconformists  at  this  time ;  but  if  we  omit  the 
grandest,— Milton  and  Bunyan, — who  are  reserved  for  subsenuent 
chapters,  the  only  writer  claiming  a  distinct  notice  is  Richard 
Baxter  (1615-1691).  He  was  the  consistent  and  unconquerable 
defender  of  the  light  of  religious  liberty;  and  in  the  evil  days  of 
James  II.  was  exposed  to  the  virulence  and  brutality  of  the  infa- 
mous Jeffreys.  With  the  exception  of  The  Saint's  Everlasting  Rest 
and  A  Call  to  the  Unconverted,  his  works  are  little  known  at  the 

*  Hallam  Vol.  II.,  p.  4B5- 


RICHARD     BAXTER. 


141 


present  day.  Amid  danger  and  persecution,  and  in  spite  of  the 
feebleness  of  his  body,  he  toiled  •with  his  busy  pen  until  he  had 
contributed  to  the  polemical  and  religious  literature  of  his  language 
the  astounding  number  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-eight  volumes.* 

*  "I  wrote  them  in  the  crowd  of  all  my  other  employment?,  which  would  allow 
me  no  great  leisure  for  polishing  or  exactness,  or  any  ornament ;  so  that  I  scarce 
ever  wrote  one  sheet  twice  over,  nor  stayed  to  make  any  blots  or  interlinings,  hut 
was  fain  to  let  it  go  as  it  was  first  conceived ;  and  when  my  own  desire  was  rather 
to  stay  upon  one  thing  long  than  run  over  many,  some  sudden  occasion  or  other 
extorted  almost  all  my  writings  from  me."— .Socfer'*  Narrative  of  His  Own  L\fs 
and 


CHAPTER     XIV, 

JOHN     Ml  LTON. 

"  Thy  soul  was  like  a  star  and  dwelt  apart ; 
Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sett— 
Pure  as  the  naked  heavens,  majestic,  free ; 
So  didst  thou  travel  on  life's  common  way 
In  cheerful  godliness  :  and  yet  thy  heart 
The  lowliest  duties  on  herself  did  lay."—  Wordsworth, 

"  John  Milton,  the  poet,  the  state? man.  the  philosopher,  the  glory  of  English 
literature,  the  champion  and  the  martyr  of  English  liberty."—  Macaulay. 

"The  old  blind  poet  hath  published  a  tedious  poem  on  the  Fall  of  Man.  If  its 
length  be  not  considered  as  a  merit,  it  hath  no  other."—  Waller. 

"  The  first  place  among  our  English  poets  is  due  to  Milton."— Addtson. 

"There  is  no  force  in  his  reasonings,  no  eloquence  in  h-7-  style,  and  no  taste  in 
his  compositions."—  Goldsmith. 

"  It  is  certain  that  this  author,  when  in  a  happy  mood  and  employed  on  a  noble 
subject,  is  the  most  wonderfully  sublime  of  all  poets  in  the  language." — Hume. 

"  Three  poets  in  three  distant  ages  born, 
Greece,  Italy  and  England  did  adorn  : 
The  first  in  loftiness  of  thought  surpassed  ; 
The  next  in  majesty;  in.both  the  last. 
The  force  of  nature  could  no  further  go ; 
:  "t  ,  v    To  make  a  third  she  joined  the  other  \\\o."—Dryden. 

"  Was  there  ever  anything  so  delightful  as  the  music  of  the  Paradise  Lost ':  It  is 
like  that  of  a  fine  organ  ;  has  the  fullest  and  the  deepest  tones  of  majesty,  with  all 
the  softness  and  elegance  of  the  Dorian  flute ;  variety  without  end,  and  never 
equalled,  unless,  perhaps,  by  Virgil." — Cowper. 

"  After  I  have  been  reading  the  Paradise  Lost  I  can  take  up  no  other  poet  with 
satisfaction.  I  seem  to  have  left  the  music  of  Handel  for  the  music  of  the  street."— 
Lar^dor. 


MILTON.  \  * 

"  Milton  is  as  great  a  writer  in  prose  as  in  verse.  Prose  conferred  coy 
him  during  his  life,  poetry  after  his  death ;  but  the  renown  of  the  prost 
lost  in  the  glory  of  the  poef'—Ctiateaubriand. 

TUTISTOKY  furnishes  no  example  of  entire  consecration  to 
"  intellectual  effort  more  illustrious  than  the  life  of 
John  Milton.  From  childhood  he  seems  to  have 
B.  1608.]  been  conscious  of  superior  powers;  and  through- 
D.  1674.]  out  his  career  circumstances  combined  to  develop 
his  peculiar  genius.  He  was  born  December  9th, 
1608,  and  was  the  son  of  a  London  scrivener,  whose  industry 
and  ability  had  gained  a  considerable  fortune.  Contempo- 
raneous accounts  prove  the  elder  Milton  to  have  been  a  man 
of  forcible  character,  and — though  a  Puritan — a  lover  of  art 
and  literature.  He  was  thus  able  and  willing  to  foster  the 
early  indications  of  genius  in  his  son,  and  gave  to  him  the 
rare  advantage  of  special  preparation  for  a  literary  career.* 
A  thorough  training  under  his  private  tutor,  Thomas  Young, 
was  supplemented  by  a  few  years  at  St.  Paul's  School  in 
London.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  was  admitted  to 
Christ's  College,  at  Cambridge.  His  poetical  tastes  mani- 
fested themselves  in  an  overweening  fondness  for  the 
classics,  and  for  poetical  literature,  and  in  an  equally  intense 
dislike  to  the  dry,  scholastic  sciences  then  in  vogue  at  the 
university.  His  intellectual  independence  is  said  to  have 
involved  him  in  difficulty  with  the  authorities  of  his  college ; 
but  the  disgrace  must  have  been  temporary,  for  he  received 
both  degrees  at  the  usual  intervals.  To  this  period  of  his 
life  many  of  his  Latin  poems  are  attributed ;  and  the 
sublime  Hymn  on  the  Nativity  was  produced  as  a  college 
exercise.  After  leaving  the  university  he  took  up  his 
residence  in  his  father's  country-seat  at  Horton,  in  Bucking- 

*  "  My  father  destined  me,  vhile  yet  a  child,  to  the  study  of  polite  literature, 
which  I  embraced  with  such  avidity,  that  from  the  twelfth  year  of  my  age  I  hardly 
ever  retired  to  my  rest  from  my  studies  till  midnight, — which  was  the  first  source 
of  injury  to  my  eyes,  to  the  natural  weakness  of  which  were  added  frequent  head- 
aches." 


144  .  MILT  OX. 

hamshire.  There  he  passed  fire  years  in  ceaseless  devotion 
to  study,  disciplining  his  mind  with  mathematics  and  the 
sciences,  and  storing  his  memory  with  the  riches  of  classical 
literature.  There  also  he  indulged  his  passionate  fondness 
for  music — a  fondness  to  which  the  invariably  melodious 
structure  of  his  verse  and  the  majestic  harmony  of  his  prose 
style,  bear  constant  testimony.  The  chief  productions  of  this 
studious  retirement  were  L?  Allegro,  11  Penseroso,  Coimis, 
the  Arcades,  and  Lycidas. 

In  1638  he  determined  to  carry  out  a  long-cherished 
plan  for  Continental  travel.  Furnished  with  influential 
introductions,  he  visited  the  principal  cities  of  France,  Italy 
and  Switzerland,  and  was  everywhere  received  with  respect 
and  admiration.*  He  seems  to  have  made  acquaintance 
with  all  who  were  most  illustrious  for  learning  and  genius ; 
he  visited  G-alileo,  "then  grown  old,  a  prisoner  in  the  Inqui- 
sition." At  Paris  he  was  entertained  by  G-rotius;  at  Flor- 
ence he  was  received  into  the  literary  academies,  and  gained 
the  encomiums  of  wits  and  scholars  by  some  of  his  Latin 
poems  and  Italian  sonnets.  His  plans  for  further  travel  were 
suddenly  abandoned  upon  the  news  of  the  rupture  between 
Charles  I.  and  the  Parliament;  "for,"  he  says,  "I  thought 
it  base  to  be  travelling  for  amusement  abroad  while  my 
fellow-citizens  were  fighting  for  liberty  at  home."  He  had 
hardly  been  restrained  from  uttering  his  religious  opinions 
within  the  walls  of  the  Vatican ;  f  he  was  now  ready,  at  the 

*  "  In  the  present  day,  when  we  examine  the  archives  and  visit  the  libraries  of 
the  Italian  sovereigns,  it  is  curious  to  observe  how  frequently,  in  the  correspon- 
dence of  the  most  eminent  writers  of  that  age,  we  find  the  name  of  this  young 
Englishman  mentioned."— Lamartine. 

t  "  Whilst  I  was  on  my  way  back  to  Rome  "  (from  Naples),  he  tells  us,  "  some 
merchants  informed  me  that  the  English  Jesuits  had  formed  a  plot  against  me  if  I 
returned  to  Rome,  because  I  had  spoken  too  freely  of  religion :  for  it  was  a  rule 
which  I  laid  down  to  myself  in  those  places,  never  to  be  the  first  to  begin  any 
conversation  on  religion,  but,  if  any  questions  were  put  to  me  concerning  my  faith, 
to  declare  it  without  any  reserve  or  fear.  I,  nevertheless,  returned  to  Rome.  I 
took  no  steps  to  conceal  either  my  person  or  my  character,  and  for  about  the  space 
of  two  months,  I  again  openly  defended,  as  I  had  done  before,  the  Reformed  religion. 
In  the  very  metropolis  of  Popery." 


MILTON.  145 

irst  occasion,  with  a.11  his  ardor,  to  throw  himself  into  the 
conflict  that  was  rending  Church  and  State.  While  waiting 
to  be  called  into  active  service,  he  conducted  a  private 
school  in  London,  and  spent  some  of  his  time  in  poetical 
contemplation.  Before  leaving  Horton  he  had  written  to 
his  friend  Deodati,  "  I  am  meditating,  by  the  help  of  heaven, 
an  immortality  of  fame,  but  my  Pegasus  has  not  yet  feathers 
enough  to  soar  aloft  in  the  fields  of  air;"  and  in  a  letter 
written  to  another  friend  just  after  his  return  from  his  travels, 
he  said,  "Some  day  I  shall  address  a  work  to  posterity  which 
will  perpetuate  my  name,  at  least  in  the  land  in  which  I 
was  born."  Intercourse  with  Continental  scholars  and 
authors  stimulnted  his  ambition,  and  formed  his  purpose. 
The  Fall  of  Man  may  have  already  occurred  to  him  as  a 
topic;  but  he  had  resolved  to  spend  his  strength  on  a 
poem  of  the  highest  order,  either  epic  or  dramatic.  To  this 
end  he  was  pursuing  his  studies  when  the  situation  of 
affairs  called  forth  his  first  pamphlet,  in  1641.  It  was 
entitled,  Of  Reformation,  and  made  a  violent  attack  on  the 
Episcopal  Church.  The  storm  of  argument  which  it  pro- 
voked, drove  Milton  out  to  a  raging  sea  of  controversy ;  and 
for  the  following  twenty  years  he  was  the  most  powerful 
and  active  champion  of  Eepublicanism  against  Monarchy. 
Among  the  most  successful  of  his  early  prose  writings  was  his 
Apology  for  Smectymnuus.  *  In  1644  he  turned  his  atten- 
tion to  a  question  which  was  in  no  way  related  to  the 
political  agitation  of  the  time,  and  wrote  a  series  of  elaborate 
and  spirited  Works  on  Divorce.  An  unfortunate  incident 
in  his  domestic  life  provoked  these  papers ;  for  in  1643,  after 
a  brief  courtship,  he  had  married  Mary  Powell,  the  daughter 
of  an  Oxfordshire  Eoyalist.  Disgusted  with  one  montn's 
experience  of  the  austere  gloom  of  a  Puritan  household,  the 

*  Stephen  Marshall,  Edward  Calamy,  Thomas  Young,  Matthew  Newcomer  and 
W(«tt)illiam  Spurstow  were  joint-writers  of  a  Puritan  polemic,  which  was  named 
Smectymnuus^  the  word  being  composed  of  the  initials  of  their  five  names. 


146  MILTON. 

bride  left  her  unsocial  husband  to  his  studies,  and  sought 
the  merriment  of  her  father's  home.  When  Milton  wrote 
requesting  her  to  return,  she  ignored  his  letter;  his  mes- 
senger she  treated  ungraciously.  Making  up  his  mind 
that  his  bride  had  forsaken  him,  he  elaborated  his  views  on 
the  question  of  divorce.  The  estrangement  continued  for 
two  years,  and  then,  learning  that  her  husband  was  about  to 
illustrate  his  faith  in  his  own  doctrines  by  marrying  again, 
Mary  Milton  repented  with  all  due  humility.  So  thoroughly 
was  she  forgiven  that  her  husband's  house  was  opened  as  a 
refuge  for  her  family  when  the  Civil  War  drove  them  into 
poverty  and  distress.  In  the  meantime  Milton  had  written 
his  tractate,  Of  Education,  and  had  addressed  to  Parliament 
the  most  masterly  of  his  prose  compositions,  the  Areopagi- 
tica;  a  Speech  for  the  Liberty  of  Unlicensed  Printing. 

In  1649  he  was  appointed  Latin  Secretary  to  the  Council 
of  State.  The  elegance  of  his  scholarship,  and  the  soundness 
of  his  judgment,  qualified  him  for  the  responsible  position. 
His  state-papers  show  with  what  zeal  and  ability  he  dis- 
charged his  duties.  While  holding  this  office  he  undertook 
the  last  and  most  important  of  his  literary  controversies. 
At  the  instigation  of  Charles  II.,  then  an  exile  in  France, 
Salmasins,  an  eminent  scholar  and  the  picked  champion  of 
the  royalists,  published  an  elaborate  and  powerful  pamphlet 
in  Latin,  maintaining  the  divine  right  of  kings  and  invoking 
vengeance  upon  the  regicides  in  England.  The  royalists 
declared  the  argument  to  be  unanswerable;  and,  indeed,  it 
was  too  weighty  to  be  disregarded.  The  Council,  therefore, 
commanded  Milton  to  undertake  a  reply.  Accordingly  he 
prepared  his  Defensio  Populi  A nglican  i.  In  elegant  Latinity 
he  proved  himself  the  equal  of  his  adversary ;  in  vitupera- 
tion and  in  weight  of  argument,  he  was  adjudged  the 
superior,  and  he  received  public  thanks  for  the  victory  won. 
It  is  said  that  the  death  of  Salmasius  was  hastened  by  the 
mortification  of  his  defeat.  But  Milton's  work  in  the 


MILTON.  147 

preparation  of  his  argument  had  hastened  the  loss  of  sight 
which  had  menaced  him  for  years.  Before  1653  he  was 
totally  blind ;  however,  he  continued  to  write  many  of  the 
more  important  state-papers  until  the  year  of  the  Restoration, 
and  was  also  occupied  with  a  History  of  England,  with  a 
body  of  divinity,  and  perhaps  with  his  great  poem. 

Through  tracts  and  letters,  Milton  had  opposed  to  the 
last  the  return  of  the  monarchy.  The  Eestoration  was  the 
signal  for  his  distress  and  persecution.  A  proclamation  was 
issued  against  him,  and  for  a  time  his  fate  Avas  uncertain ; 
but  he  lived  in  concealment  until  the  passing  of  the  Act  of 
Indemnity  placed  him  in  safety.*  From  that  time  until 
his  death  he  lived  in  retirement,  busily  occupied  in  the 
composition  of  Paradise  Lost,  and  Paradise  Re- 
1665]  gained.  The  former  of  these  works  had  been  his 
principal  employment  for  about  seven  years.  The 
second  epic  and  the  tragedy  of  Samson  Agonistes  were 
published  in  the  year  1671.  On  the  8th  of  November,  1674, 
Milton  died.  He  was  buried  in  Cripplegate  Churchyard. 
His  first  wife  died  about  1652, leaving  him  three  daughters; 
his  second,  Katharine  Woodcock,  died  in  1658,  after  little 
more  than  a  year's  marriage;  but  the  third,  Elizabeth 
Minshull,  whom  he  espoused  about  1664,  survived  him  for  '•• 
more  than  half  a  century. 

Milton's  literary  career  divides  itself  into  three  great 
periods, — that  of  his  youth,  that  of  his  manhood,  and  that 
of  his  old  age.  The  first  may  be  roughly  stated  as  extend- 
ing from  1623  to  1640;  the  second  from  1640  to  1660,  the 
date  of  the  Eestoration ;  and  the  third  from  the  Eestoration 
to  the  poet's  death  in  1674.  During  the  first  of  these  he 
produced  most  of  his  minor  poetical  works;  during  the 

*  "  He  [Charles  II.]  offered  to  reinstate  Milton  in  his  office  of  government  advo- 
cate, if  he  would  devote  his  talents  to  the  cause  of  monarchy.  His  wife  entreated 
him  to  comply  with  this  proposal.  'You  are  a  woman,'  replied  Milton,  'and  your 
thoughts  dwell  on  the  domestic  interests  of  our  house  ;  I  think  only  of  posterity, 
and  I  will  die  consistently  with  my  character.'  " — Lamartint. 


148  MILT  OX. 

second  he  was  chiefly  occupied  with  his  prose  controversies; 
and  in  the  third  we  see  him  slowly  elaborating  the  Paradise 
Lost  (126-134),  the  Paradise  Regained  (135),  and  the 
Samson  Agonistes  (136). 

Those  qualities  which  distinguish  Milton  from  all  other 
poets  appear  in  his  earliest  productions, — in  the  poetical 
exercises  written  at  school  and  at  college.  The  Hymn 
on  the  Nativity,  composed  at  the  age  of  twenty-one,  is  a 
fit  prelude  to  the  Paradise  Lost,  the  crowning  glory  of 
his  ripened  genius.  With  a  peculiar  grandeur  and  dignity 
of  thought  he  combines  an  exquisite,  though  somewhat 
austere  harmony  and  grace.  The  least  elaborate  of  his 
efforts  are  characterized  by  a  solemn,  stately  melody  of 
versification  that  satisfies  the  ear  like  the  billowy  sound  of  a 
mighty  organ.  Apart  from  this  energy  of  rhythm.,  bis 
youthful  poems  are  mostly  tranquil,  tender,  or  playful  in 
tone. 

The  Masque  of  Comus  (129)  was  written  in  1634,  to  be 
performed  at  Ludlow  Castle  before  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater. 
The  Earl's  daughter  and  two  sons  had  lost  their  way  while 
walking  in  the  Avoods ;  and  out  of  this  simple  incident  Milton 
wrote  the  most  beautiful  pastoral  drama  that  has  yet  been 
produced.  The  characters  are  few,  the  dramatic  action  is 
exceedingly  simple,  the  eloquence  is  pure  and  musical,  and 
the  songs  are  exquisitely  melodious.  Many  of  the  qualities 
of  this  poem  are  imitations  of  Fletcher's  Faithful  Shep- 
herdess, and  of  the  Masques  and  the  Sad  Shepherd  of  Jon- 
son  ;  but  in  elevation  of  thought,  in  purity,  if  not  in 
delineation  of  natural  beauty,  Milton  has  far  surpassed  both 
Jonson  and  Fletcher, 

The  elegy  entitled  Lycidas  was  a  tribute  to  the  memory 
of  Milton's  friend  and  fellow-student,  Edward  King,  who 
was  lost  at  sea  in  a  voyage  to  Ireland.  In  its  form,  as  well 
as  in  the  irregular  and  ever-varying  music  of  its  verse,  may 
be  traced  the  influence  of  Milton's  study  of  Spenser  and  the 


MILTON.  149 

Italian  classics.  This  poem  was  fiercely  condemned  by 
Samuel  Johnson.  He  declared  that  "no  man  could  have 
fancied  that  he  read  Lycidas  with  pleasure  had  he  not 
known  its  author."  But  few  who  read  the  poem  will 
accept  such  criticism.  For  force  of  imagination  and  ex- 
haustless  beauty  of  imagery  it  answers  to  a  true  poetic 
sensibility. 

The  two  descriptive  gems,  L' Allegro  (1S4)  and  II 
Penseroso  ( 1 25),  are  perhaps  best  known  and  best  appre- 
ciated of  all  Milton's  works.  They  are  of  nearly  the  same 
length,  and  are  perfect  counterparts.  L' Allegro  describes 
scenery  and  various  occupations  and  amusements  as  viewed 
in  the  light  of  a  joyous  and  vivacious  nature;  II  Penseroso 
dwells  upon  the  aspect  presented  by  similar  objects  to  a  per- 
son of  serious,  thoughtful,  and  studious  character.  The 
tone  of  each  is  admirably  sustained  ;  the  personality  of  the 
poet  appears  in  the  calm  cheerfulness  of  the  one,  as  well  as 
in  the  tranquil  meditativeness  of  the  other.  His  joy  is  with- 
out frivolity ;  his  pensive  thoughtfulness  is  without  gloom. 
But  no  analysis  can  do  justice  to  the  bold  yet  delicate  lines 
in  which  these  complementary  pictures  present  various 
aspects  of  nature — beautiful,  sublime,  smiling,  or  terrible. 
They  are  inexhaustibly  suggestive  to  the  thoughtful 
reader;  and  they  have  been  justly  pronounced,  not  so  much 
poains  as  stores  of  imagery,  from  which  volumes  of  pic- 
turesque description  might  be  drawn.  Written  in  the 
seclusion  of  his  home  at  Horton,  they  are  fancies  about 
mirth  and  melancholy ;  they  are  poems  of  theory,  not  of 
observation.  They  show  us  how^a  man  who  knew  neither 
mirth  nor  melancholy  would  personify  them.  They  are 
intellectual  studies  of  emotion,  not  the  irrepressible  utter- 
ances of  emotion. 

Milton's  Latin  and  Italian  poems  belong  principally  to 
his  youth  ;  many  of  the  former  were  college  exercises.  He 
has  had  no  rival  amon^  the  modern  writers  of  Latin  verse. 


150  MIL  TO  X. 

The  felicity  with  which  lie  has  reproduced  the  dic- 
tion of  classical  antiquity  is  equalled  only  by  the  per- 
fection with  which  he  has  sustained  the  style  of  antique 
thought. 

Shakespeare,  Spenser,  Sidney,  and  inferior  poets  had 
written  sonnets,  some  of  a  high  degree  of  beauty,  but  it  was 
reserved  for  Milton  to  transplant  into  his  native  country  the 
Italian  sonnet  in  its  highest  form.  He  has  seldom  chosen 
the  subject  of  Love ;  religion,  patriotism,  and  domestic  affec- 
tion are  his  favorite  themes ;  and  most  of  them  are  ennobled 
by  that  sublime  gravity  which  was  eminently  characteristic 
of  his  mind.  Among  his  sonnets  the  following  are  worthy 
of  special  admiration  :  I.  To  the  Nightingale  ;  VI.  and  VII., 
containing  noble  anticipations  of  his  poetical  glory ;  XVI., 
a  recapitulation  of  Cromwell's  victories ;  XVIII.,  On  the 
Massacre  of  the  Protestants  in  Piedmont  (138);  XIX.  and 
XXIL,  on  his  own  blindness  (137). 

The  second  period  of  Milton's  literary  life  was  filled 
with  political  and  religious  controversy ;  and  in  the  volu- 
minous prose  works  which  were  its  results,  we  see  at  once 
the  ardor  of  his  convictions,  the  lofty  integrity  of  his  char- 
acter, and  the  force  of  his  genius.  They  are  crowded  with 
vast  and  abstruse  erudition,  fused  into  a  glowing  mass  by 
the  fervor  of  enthusiasm.  Whether  in  Latin  or  in  English, 
their  style  is  remarkable  for  a  weighty  and  ornate  mag- 
nificence, cumbrous  and  pedantic  in  other  hands,  but  in  his, 
a  fit  armor  for  breadth  and  power  of  thought.  Milton 
always  seems  to  think  in  Latin.  The  length  and  involution 
of  his  sentences,  their  solemn  and  stately  march,  his  prefer- 
ence for  words  of  Latin  origin — all  contribute  to  make  him 
one  of  the  most  Roman  of  English  authors.  This  quality, 
while  it  attests  his  learning,  has  combined  with  the  fact  that 
many  of  his  subjects  possessed  only  a  temporary  interest,  to 
exclude  his  prose  treatises  from  their  true  place  among 


JilLTO*. 

* 

English   classics.      They   are   becoming    every 
kiioVn  to  the  general  reader.* 

The  Areopagitica,  addressed  to  the  English 
in  defence  of  the  liberty  of  the  press,  is  an  oratioi 
antique  models,  and  is  the  subliinest  plea  that  any  age  or 
country  has  produced  for  the  great  principle  of  freedom  of 
thought  and  opinion.  Its  almost  superhuman  eloquence  is 
rivalled  by  a  passage  in  the  pamphlet  Against  Prelaty,  in 
which  Milton  confutes  the  calumnies  of  his  foes  by  a  glorious 
epitome  of  his  studies,  projects,  and  literary  aspirations. 
The  tractate,  Of  Education,  embodies  a  beautiful  but  uto- 
pian  scheme  for  bringing  modern  educational  training  into 
conformity  with  ancient  ideas.  Others  of  the  finest  of  his 
prose  treatises  are  the  Iconoclastes,  the  Defensio  Populi 
Anglicani,  Defensio  Secunda,  and  A  Ready  and  Easy  Way 
to  Establish  a  Free  Commonwealth. 

There  is  no  spectacle  in  the  history  of  literature  more 
touching  and  sublime  than  Milton  blind,  poor,  persecuted, 
and  alone,  "fallen  upon  evil  days  and  evil  tongues,  in 
darkness  and  with  dangers  compassed  round,"  retiring  into 
obscurity  to  compose  those  immortal  epics,  Paradise  Lost 
and  Paradise  Regained.  The  Paradise  Lost  (126)  was 
originally  composed  in  ten  books,  which  were  afterwards 
so  divided  as  to  make  twelve.  Its  composition,  though  tiie 
work  was  probably  meditated  long  before,  f  occupied  about 

*  "It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the  prose  writings  of  Milton  should  in  our  time  be 
BO  little  read.  As  compositions,  they  deserve  the  attention  of  every  man  who  wishes 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  full  power  of  the  English  language.  They  abound 
with  passages  compared  with  which  the  finest  declamations  of  Burke  sink  into 
insignificance.  They  are  a  perfect  field  of  cloth  of  gold.  The  style  is  stiff  with 
gorgeous  embroidery." — Macaulay. 

t  According  to  Voltaire,  "Milton,  as  he  was  travelling  in  Italy,  in  his  youth, 
saw  at  Florence  a  comedy  called  Adamo.  The  subject  of  the  play  was  the  Fall  of 
Man ;  the  actors,  God,  the  Angels,  Adam,  Eve,  the  Serpent,  Death,  and  the  Seven 
Mortal  Sins.  That  topic,  so  improper  for  a  drama,  was  handled  in  a  manner 
entirely  conformable  to  the  extravagance  of  the  design.  The  scene  opens  with  ;; 
chorus  of  angela,  and  a  cherub  thus  epeaks  for  the  rest-.  Let  tfu  rainbow  be  tkt 


MILT  OK. 

seven  years,  from  1G58  to  1665  ;  and  it  was  first  published 
in  1667.  Its  subject  is  the  grandest  that  ever  entered  into 
the  heart  of  man  to  conceive.  The  entire  action  moves 
among  celestial  and  infernal  personages  and  scenes;  and 
the  poet  does  not  hesitate  to  usher  us  into  tlie  awful  presence 
of  Deity  itself. 

In  Book  I.,  after  the  proposition  of  the  subject, — the  Fall  of  Man, — 
and  a  sublime  invocation,  the  council  of  Satan  and  the  infernal  angels 
is  described.  Their  determination  to  oppose  the  designs  of  God  in  the 
creation  of  the  Earth  and  the  innocence  of  our  first  parents  are  then 
stated,  and  the  book  closes  with  a  description  of  the  erection  of  Pande- 
monium, the  palace  of  Satan.  Book  II.  records  the  debates  of  the 
evil  spirits,  the  consent  of  Satan  to  undertake  the  enterprise  of 
temptation,  his  journey  to  the  Gates  of  Hell,  which  he  finds  guarded 
by  Sin  and  Death.  Book  III.  transports  us  to  Heaven,  where,  after  a 
dialogue  between  God  the  Father  and  God  the  Son,  the  latter  offers 
himself  as  a  propitiation  for  the  foreseen  disobedience  of  Adam.  In  the 
latter  portion  of  this  canto,  Satan  meets  Uriel,  the  angel  of  the  Sun, 
and  inquires  the  road  to  the  new-created  Earth,  where,  disguised  as  an 
angel  of  light,  he  descends.  Book  IV.  brings  Satan  to  the  sight  of 
Paradise,  and  contains  the  picture  of  the  innocence  and  happiness  of 
Adam  and  Eve.  The  angels  set  a  guard  over  Eden,  and  Satan  is 
arrested  while  endeavoring  to  tempt  Eve  in  a  dream.  He  is  allowed 
to  escape.  In  Book  V.  Eve  relates  her  dream  to  Adam,  who  comforts 
her ;  and  they,  after  their  morning  prayer,  proceed  to  their  daily 
employment.  They  are  visited  by  the  angel  Raphael,  sent  to  warn 
them  ;  and  he  relates  to  Adam  the  story  of  the  revolt  of  Satan  and  the 
disobedient  angels.  In  Book  VI.  the  narrative  of  Raphael  is  continued. 
Book  VII.  is  devoted  to  the  account  of  the  creation  of  the  world  given 
by  Raphael,  at  Adams  request.  In  Book  VIII.  Adam  describes  to  the 
angel  his  own  state  and  recollections,  his  meeting  with  Eve,  and  their 
union.  The  action  of  Book  IX.  is  the  temptation,  first  of  Eve,  and 

fiddlestick  of  the  heavens .'  Let  the  planets  be  the  notes  of  our  music  !  Let  time  beat 
carefully  the  measure,  etc.  Thus  the  play  begins,  and  every  scene  rises  above  the 
last  in  profusion  of  impertinence.  Milton  pierced  through  the  absurdity  of  that  per- 
formance to  the  hidden  majesty  of  the  subject :  v^hich,  being  altogether  unfit  for 
the  stage,  yet  might  be,  for  the  genius  of  Milton,  and  his  only,  the  foundation  of  nil 
epic  poem.  He  took  from  that  ridiculous  trifle  the  first  hint  of  the  noblest  work 
which  human  imagination  has  ever  attempted,  and  which  he  executed  more  than 
twenty  years  after." 


MILT  OX.  153 

then,  through,  her,  of  Adam.  Boole  X.  contains  the  jtidgment  and 
sentence  of  Adam  and  Eve.  Satan,  triumphant,  returns  to  Pande- 
monium, but  not  before  Sin  and  Death  construct  a  causeway  through 
Chaos  to  Earth.  Satan  recounts  his  success,  but  he  and  all  his  angels 
are  transformed  into  serpents.  Adam  and  Eve  bewail  their  fault,  and 
determine  to  implore  pardon.  Book  XI.  relates  the  acceptance  of 
Adam's  repentance  by  the  Almighty,  who,  however,  commands  that  he 
be  expelled  from  Paradise.  The  angel  Michael  is  sent  to  reveal  to 
Adam  the  consequences  of  his  transgression.  Eve  lamsnts  her  exile 
from  Eden,  and  Michael  shows  Adam  in  a  vision  the  destiny  of  man 
before  the  Flood.  Book  XII.  continues  the  prophetic  picture  shown 
to  Adam  by  Michael  of  the  fate  of  the  human  race  from  the  flood. 
Adam  is  comforted  by  the  account  of  the  redemption  of  man,  and  by 
the  destinies  of  the  Church.  The  poem  terminates  with  the  wandering 
forth  of  our  first  parents  from  Paradise. 

But  no  synopsis  can  satisfy  the  reader  or  assist  him 
much  in  comprehending  the  poem.  Nothing  but  an 
acquaintance  with  the  work  itself  would  suffice. 

The  peculiar  form  of  blank  verse  in  which  Paradise 
Lost  and  Paradise  Regained  are  written,  was  first  adapted 
to  epic  poetry  by  Milton.  He  has  gifted  it  with  a  distinctive 
tone  and  rhythm,  solemn,  dignified  and  sonorous,  yet  of 
musical  and  ever-varying  cadence,  and  as  delicately  respon- 
sive to  the  sentiments  it  embodies  as  the  billow-like  harmonies 
of  the  Homeric  hexameter.  Where  it  suited  his  purpose, 
he  closely  folloAved  the  severe  condensation  of  the  scriptural 
narrative ;  but  where  his  subject  required  him  to  give  freedom 
to  his  thought,  he  showed  that  no  poet  ever  surpassed  him 
in  fertility  of  conception,  that  no  poet  ever  saw  the  splendors 
of  a  more  glorious  vision.  In  alluding  to  the  blending  of 
simple  scriptural  story  with  imagination  in  Paradise  Lost, 
Lamartine  pronounces  the  poem  "the  dream  of  a  Puritan 
who  has  fallen  asleep  over  the  first  pages  of  his  Bible."  The 
description  of  the  fallen  angels,  the  splendor  of  heaven,  the 
horrors  of  hell,  the  loveliness  of  Paradise,  as  exhibited  in  the 
poem,  pass  the  bounds  of  earthly  experience  and  give  us 


154  MILT  OX. 

scenes  of  superhuman  beauty  or  horror,  that  are  presented 
to  the  eye  with  a  vividness  rivaling  that  of  the  memory 
itself.  Milton's  Satan  ( 1 37)  is  no  caricature  of  the  demon 
of  vulgar  superstition ;  he  is  not  less  than  archangel,  though 
archangel  ruined;  he  is  invested,  by  the  poet,  with  the  most 
lofty  and  terrible  attributes  of  the  divinities  of  classical 
mythology.  Milton  is  pre-eminently  the  poet  of  the  learned ; 
for  however  imposing  his  pictures  may  be  even  to  the  most 
uncultivated  mind,  it  is  only  to  a  reader  who  is  familiar 
with  classical  and  Biblical  literature  that  he  displays  his 
full  powers. 

Dryden  and  many  later  critics  have  criticised  the  subject 
of  this  epic  poem,  inasmuch  as  it  makes  Adam  but  the 
nominal  hero,  while  Satan  is  the  real  one.  The  inferior 
nature  of  man,  as  compared  with  the  tremendous  powers  of 
which  he  is  the  sport,  reduces  him,  apparently,  to  a  second- 
ury  part  in  the  action  of  the  poem ;  but  this  objection  is 
removed  by  the  dignity  with  which  Milton  has  clothed  his 
human  personages,  and  by  his  making  them  the  centre 
around  which  the  mightier  characters  revolve.* 

After  Milton's  retirement  from  public  life  he  was  sought 
out  by  scholarly  foreigners,  who  were  curious  to  see  him 
on  account  of  the  fame  of  his  learning;  and  he  received 
loving  and  admiring  attention  from  many  of  his  own 
countrymen.  Among  them  was  Thomas  Ellwood,  a  Friend, 
who  frequently  read  Latin  books  to  the  blind  poet.  One 
day  Milton  handed  him  a  manuscript,  and  asked  him  to 
read  it  with  care.  Upon  returning  it,  Ellwood  said,  "Thou 

*  It  seems  probable  that  Milton  had  some  difficulty  in  finding  a  publisher  for  his 
epic;  but  in  1667  he  effected  a  sale  of  the  copyright  to  Samuel  Symons.  By  the 
terms  of  the  sale,  Milton  was  to  receive  five  pounds  on  signing  the  agreement,  five 
pounds  more  on  the  sale  of  a  first  edition  of  thirteen  hundred  copies,  and  five 
pounds  for  each  of  the  two  following  editions  when  they  should  be  exhausted.  He 
lived  to  receive  the  second  payment.  In  1680  his  widow  sold  to  the  publisher  all 
of  her  "right,  title,  and  interest"  in  the  work  for  eight  pounds;  so  that  the 
author  and  his  heirs  received  but  eighteen  pounds  for  the  grandest  poem  of  our 
literature. 


MILTON.  155 

hast  said  much  here  of  Paradise  Lost,  but  what  hast  thou 
to  say  of  Paradise  Found?"  This  question  suggested 
to  Milton  the  writing  of  Paradise  Regained.  By  general 
consent  the  second  epic  is  placed  far  below  the  first  in  point 
of  interest  and  variety ;  still  it  displays  the  same  solemn 
grandeur,  the  same  lofty  imagination,  the  same  vast  learning.. 
Christ's  Temptation  in  the  Wilderness  is  the  theme,  and  the 
narrative  of  that  incident  as  recorded  in  the  fourth  chapter 
of  St.  Matthew's  gospel  is  closely  followed.  This  poem  is 
said  to  have  been  preferred  to  the  grander  epic  in  the  esteem 
of  the  poet  himself. 

The  noble  and  pathetic  tragedy  of  Samson  Agonistes 
(136)  belongs  to  the  closing  period  of  Milton's  literary 
career.  It  is  constructed  according  to  the  strictest  rules  of 
the  Greek  drama.  In  the  character  of  the  hero,  his  blind- 
ness, his  sufferings,  and  his  resignation  to  the  will  of  God, 
Milton  has  given  a  most  touching  representation  of  his  own 
old  age.*  So  closely  has  Milton  copied  all  the  details  of  the 
ancient  dramas,  that  there  is  no  exaggeration  in  saying  that 
a  modern  reader  will  obtain  a  more  exact  impression  of  what 
a  Greek  tragedy  was,  from  the  study  of  Samson  Agonistes, 
than  from  the  most  faithful  translation  of  Sophocles  or 
Euripides. 

The  last  years  of  Milton's  life,  in  which  darkness  nestled 
him  under  her  wing,  are  a  reminder  of  the  fact  that  the 
world  from  which  he  was  thus  shut  out  had  not  then,  nor 

*  "  They  charge  me  "—thus  he  wrote  to  one  of  his  friends,  a  foreigner— "  they 
charge  me  with  poverty  because  I  have  never  desired  to  become  rich  dishonestly  ; 
they  accuse  me  of  blindness  because  I  have  lost  my  eyes  in  the  service  of  liberty; 
they  tax  me  with  cowardice,  and  while  I  had  the  use  of  my  eyes  and  my  sword  I 
never  feared  the  boldest  among  them;  finally,  I  am  upbraided  with  deformity, 
while  no  one  was  more  handsome  in  Hie  age  of  beauty.  I  do  not  even  complain  of 
my  want  of  sight ;  in  the  night  wilh  which  I  am  surrounded,  the  light  of  the  divine 
presence  shines  with  a  more  brilliant  lustre.  God  looks  down  upon  me  with  ten- 
derness and  compassion,  because  I  can  now  see  none  but  himself.  Misfortune 
should  protect  me  from  insult,  and  render  me  sacred ;  not  because  I  am  deprived 
of  the  light  of  heaven,  but  because  I  am  under  the  shadow  of  the  divine  winga, 
which  have  enveloped  me  with  this  darkness." 


156  MILTON. 

has  since  had,  nor  will  ever  have,  a  distinct  view  of  him 
Milton's  soul  was  the  soul  of  a  recluse.  He  was  in,  but  not 
of,  the  seventeenth  century.  In  moral  and  in  intellectual 
power  he  was  a  giant,  beside  whom  contemporaries  were  pig- 
mies. The  robustness,  beauty,  dignity  of  his  life  were  such 
as  might  be  looked  for  in  a  man  chosen  from  some  lofty  and 
bracing  epoch  of  history ;  and  we  are  surprised  at  finding 
him  in  the  sickliest  age,  breathing  the  miasma  that  brought 
disease  to  other  men.  He  was  miraculously  kept  from  the 
religious  fever  that  made  some  men  insane,  and  from  the 
taint  of  the  moral  plague  that  made  others  loathsome.  This 
charm  makes  his  life  somewhat  a  mystery,  and  the  effect 
of  the  mystery  is  heightened  by  the  purity  and  elevation  of 
his  thought,  and  by  the  glittering  and  inimitable  magnifi- 
cence of  his  style. 

Although  we  know  much  about  Milton,  we  do  not  know 
him.  We  do  not  hope  to  commune  closely  with  him.  He 
seems  to  us  a  little  more  than  human.  When  we  have  read 
the  loftiest  praises  of  him  we  feel  that  the  critic  has  failed 
of  reaching  the  elevation  which  a  just  criticism  of  Mil- 
ton should  attain  unto.  The  rhetoric,  the  enthusiasm  of 
Macaulay,  do  not  cast  as  intense  a  light  as  we  could  wish  for 
in  viewing  "the  genius  and  virtues  of  John  Milton,  the 
poet,  the  statesman,  the  philosopher,  the  glory  of  English 
literature,  the  champion  and  the  martyr  of  English  liberty." 
There  is  a  grandeur  in  the  man  that  cannot  be  fitly 
described  by  the  flushed  fancy  and  the  lavish  strength  of 
the  grandest  periods  of  the  rhetorician.  There  is  some- 
thing about  him  that  crowds  our  capacity  for  admiring, 
and  yet  forbids  the  familiar  acquaintance  that  would  give 
us  rapturous  love  for  him.  Our  ideal  of  him  is  less  satis- 
factory than  our  ideal  of  any  other  of  the  great  men  in  our 
literature;  and  the  cause  of  his  eluding  us  is  found  in  the 
fact  that  he  was  a  recluse.  As  Wordsworth  said  of  him, 

"  Thy  soul  was  like  a  star  and  dwelt  apart." 


M  I L  T  0  X  . 

The  mystery  that  is  about  him,  the  haughtiness  tha\ 
detect  in  him,  the  grandeur  that  evades  the  critic's  an 
and  the  strange  reverence  felt  by  all  who  study  him 
arc  traceable  to  an  awe-inspiring  peculiarity  that  ma^v  be 
described  as  the  loneliness  of  Milton.  The  companionships 
of  other  historic  characters  help  the  student ;  but  Milton 
seems  to  have  been  without  intimacies  :  the  social  tempta- 
tions to  which  they  yielded  or  over  which  they  were  victorious, 
the  constancy  or  inconstancy  of  their  friendships,  the  influ- 
ences that  they  exerted  over  those  who  loved  them,  give 
us  an  idea  of  what  our  attitude  would  have  been  towards 
them,  had  we  been  of  their  company.  But  where  shall 
we  find. the  men  who  had  intimate  friendship  with  Mil- 
ton. His  loneliness  was  recognized  and  respected.  His 
fellow-students  *at  the  university  detected  something  pecu- 
liarly unlike  themselves  in  him,  and  named  him  "  The  Lady 
of  the  College."  The  gentle  woman  who  came  to  his  house 
to  be  his  wife  soon  found  that  she  could  not  intrude  upon 
his  solitude.  Amid  the  excitement  of  the  Civil  War  he 
seems  to  have  been  companionless ;  and  when  victory  had 
brought  joy  to  all  other  men  of  his  political  party  he  was 
found  in  the  seclusion  of  his  quiet  study,  and  was  summoned 
to  the  public  service  of  the  state.  During  the  years  of  the 
Commonwealth  two  men  are  superior  to  all  other  English- 
men,— the  man  of  action,  Cromwell;  and  the  man  of  thought, 
Milton.  Although  mutually  dependent,  they  were  not 
intimate  companions,  for  Milton  stood  in  intellectual  isola- 
tion. When  the  days  of  blindness  and  poverty  and  threaten- 
ings  came  to  him  and  he  was  in  his  hiding-place,  he  was  not 
withdrawn  further  than  he  had  ever  been  from  the  world. 
His  whole  career  was  separate  from  the  intimate  acquaint- 
ance of  men.  His  religious  opinions  would  have  been 
acceptable  to  neither  party.  Although  he  was  a  Puritan  in 
politics,  his  theology  would  have  been  criminal  heresy  to 
the  Puritans.  In  forming  his  political  opinions  he  was  not 


158  MILTOX. 

influenced  by  the  same  reasons  which  swayed  the  men  of  his 
party;  they  beheaded  Charles  I.  because  he  was  the  leader 
of  a  hated  church ;  Milton  justified  the  regicide  because  the 
unconstitutional  exercise  of  regal  power  is  insulting  to 
nationality.  It  is  this  lack  of  affinity  between  Milton  and 
other  men,  this  want  of  contact  between  him  and  the  world, 
this  independence  in  political,  poetical,  and  religious  think- 
ing—  this  loneliness  of  the  man  —  that  gives  a  peculiar 
dignity  to  his  character,  that  overawes  our  love,  and  forbids 
our  intimate  acquaintance  with  him. 

The  student  is  referred  to  Masson's  Life  of  Milton,— Dr.  Johnson's  Life  of 
Milton,— De  Quincey's  Life  of  Milton,— Hallam'a  History  of  Literature,  Vol.  IV.,— 
Macaulay's  Essay  on  Milton, —  Lamartine's  Celebrated,  Characters,—  Channing'a 
Essay  on  Milton,— Reed's  Lectures  on  the  British  Poets,  Vol.  I., — Hazlitt's  Lectures 
on  the  English  Poets,— Lowell's  Essay  on  Milton  and  Shakespeare,  North  American 
It~riew,  April,  1868,— the  article  on  Milton  in  the  Encyclopedia  Britannica, — 
Campbell's  Sixcimens  of  the  British  Poets,—  Tainc's  English  Literature,— Lau- 
dors  Works,— Masson's  Essays  on  ike  English  Poets, — and  Addison's  criticisms 
on  Paradise  Lost  in  The  Spectator,  Nos.  267, 273,  279,  285,  291,  297,  303,  309,  315,  321, 
327,  333,  339,  345,  351,  357,  363,  3G9. 


CHAPTER     XV, 

THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  RESTORATION. 

TT^OR  worthlessness  of  character  and  for  the  shamefulness  of  his 
public  life,  Charles  II.,  the  prince  to  whom  the  crown  of  the 

Stuarts  was  restored,  stands  without  a  rival  in  the  line  of 
1660.]  English  kings.  During  the  time  of  the  Commonwealth  he 

had  found  refuge  on  the  Continent.  His  good-nature  and  his 
rank  had  won  him  hosts  of  friends ;  but  as  he  was  wanting  in  dignity 
of  character,  his  friendships  were  not  with  the  good.  When  he 
ascended  the  throne  he  inaugurated  an  age  of  debauchery  and 
shame.  The  dissipated  companions  of  his  exile,  and  foreign  adven- 
turers who  had  fastened  themselves  upon  him,  were  the  favorites 
of  his  Court.  His  ambition  was  to  ensure  these  worthless  courtiers 
a  good  time.  The  gambler,  the  drunkard,  and  the  libertine,  found 
him  ever  ready  to  give  them  the  royal  smile  and  to  join  them  iii 
their  criminal  pleasures.  Patriotism  made  no  successful  appeal  to 
him.  Decency  fled  from  his  presence.  His  halls  of  state  were 
lavishly  furnished,  the  doors  were  thrown  open,  and  the  rollicking 
king  welcomed  his  subjects  to  his  presence,  where  they  could  hear 
the  profanity,  could  see  the  drunkenness  and  could  suspect  the 
baser  infamies  of  the  highest  circle  of  English  life.  Under  Crom- 
well's government  severe  restraints  had  been  thrown  about  the 
people.  Public  amusements  had  been  forbidden.  Many  innocent 
pleasures  had  been  denounced.  And  now  the  Court  laughed  loudest 
at  the  unreasonable  severity  of  the  Puritans,  and  went  to  the 
farthest  reach  in  a  reckless  pursuit  of  pleasure.  The  effect  of  such 
a  revolution  at  court  was  immediate  and  fearful.  The  nation 
plunged  madly  into  excesses. 

Popular  literature  in  any  generation  is  but  the  reflection  of  that 
generation's  thought,  and  so  we  must  expect  to  find  that  the 
applauded  writers  of  the  time  of  Charles  II.  are  men  who  laugh  at 


ICO  SAMUEL     BUTLER. 

seriousness  and  apologize  for  vice.  The  drama  of  the  time,  as  it 
appealed  most  directly  to  popular  attention,  was  most  outrageously 
vicious ;  but  whatever  writings  came  from  other  than  the  pens  of 
Puritans  were  tainted  with  the  disease  of  the  Court. 

The  most  illustrious  literary  representative  of  the  party  of  the 
Cavaliers  is  Samuel  Butler  (1G12-1680).  When  more  than  fifty 
years  of  age,  after  witnessing  the  success  and  the  failure  of  the 
Puritans,  he  wrote  a  satire  upon  their  follies  in  which  he  con- 
demned them  to  a  ridicule  so  keen  that  his  work  still  holds  the 
pre-eminent  place  in  our  literature  of  satire.  His  early  life  was 
passed  in  obscurity.  He  was  of  lowly  parentage.  Lack  of  funds 
cut  short  his  stay  at  the  University  of  Cambridge ;  still  he  was 
there  long  enough  to  acquire  some  of  the  learning  displayed  in  his 
works.  For  several  years  he  was  clerk  in  the  office  of  a  country 
justice,  and  afterwards  became  a  secretary  in  the  service  of  the 
Countess  of  Kent.  In  these  positions  he  found  opportunities  for 
study  and  for  intercourse  with  scholarly  and  accomplished  men. 
Next  we  find  him  a  tutor,  or  clerk,  in  the  family  of  Sir  Samuel 
Luke,  a  wealthy  gentleman  of  Bedfordshire,  who,  as  a  violent 
republican  member  of  Parliament,  and  as  one  of  Cromwell's  satraps, 
took  an  active  part  in  the  agitations  of  the  Commonwealth.  In 
the  person  of  this  dignitary  Butler  probably  saw  the  most  radical 
type  of  Puritan  character.  With  the  convictions  of  a  Royalist  and 
with  the  temperament  of  a  satirist,  he  must  have  found  his  situation 
uncongenial.  It  is  possible  that  personal  feeling  quickened  his 
powers  of  ridicule  and  suggested  the  plan  of  a  sweeping  satire  on 
the  republican  party,  and  that  he  began  his  Hudihras  (141)  while 
yet  in  the  service  of  the  gentleman  whom  he  lias  so  mercilessly 
lampooned. 

The  Restoration  brought  Butler  no  special  reward  for  his  loyalty. 
He  became  Secretary  to  Lord  Carbury,  and  for  some  time  acted 

as  Steward  of  Ludlow  Castle ;  but  this  situation  was  nei- 
1663]  ther  permanent  nor  lucrative.  It  was  in  16G3  that  he 

published  the  first  part  of  HudUiras ;  and  the  second  part 
followed  in  1664.  The  poem  soon  became  the  popular  book  of 
the  day;  for  its  wit  and  ingenuity  won  the  praise  of  the  critics, 
while  its  tone  and  subject  flattered  the  vindictive  triumph  of  the 
royalists.  Charles  II.  carried  it  about  in  his  pocket,  and  was 
constantly  quoting  and  admiring  it ;  but  all  efforts  to  secure 


SAMUEL     BUTLER.  161 

patronage  for  its  author,  either  from  the  king  or  his  favorites, 
proved  fruitless.  A  fatality  combined  with  the  usual  ingratitude 
of  the  Court  to  leave  the  great  wit  in  his  poverty  and  obscurity. 
Two  years  after  the  appearance  of  the  third  part  of  his  famous 
work,  he  died  in  a  miserable  lodging  in  Covent  Garden  ;  and  the 
expenses  of  his  modest  burial  were  defrayed  by  a  friend.* 

As  has  been  already  stated,  the  poem  of  Hudibras  is  a  burlesque 
eatire  upon  the  Puritan  party,  and  especially  upon  its  two  dom- 
inant sects,  —  Presbyterians  and  Independents.  It  describes  the 
adventures  of  a  fanatical  justice  of  the  peace  and  his  clerk,  who 
sally  forth,  in  knight-errant  style,  to  enforce  the  violent  and  op- 
pressive enactments  of  the  Rump  Parliament  against  the  popular 
amusements.  Sir  Hudibras,  the  hero,  —  in  all  probability  a  carica- 
ture of  Sir  Samuel  Luke,  Butler's  whilom  employer  —  represents 
the  Presbyterians.  He  is  depicted  as,  in  mind,  character,  person 
and  bearing,  a  grotesque  compound  of  pedantry,  ugliness,  hypo- 
crisy and  cowardice  ;  his  clerk,  Ralph,  is  sketched  with  equal 
unction  as  the  type  of  the  sour,  wrong-headed,  but  more  enthusiastic 
Independents.  The  doughty  pair,  having  set  out  on  their  crusade, 
first  encounter  a  crowd  of  ragamuffins  who  are  leading  a  bear  to 
be  "  baited,"  and  refuse  to  disperse  at  the  knight's  command.  A 
furious  mock-heroic  battle  ensues,  in  which  Hudibras  is  finally 
victorious.  He  puts  the  chief  delinquents  in  the  parish  stocks; 
but  their  comrades  soon  return  to  the  charge,  set  them  free,  and 
imprison  the  knight  and  squire.  They  are  in  turn  liberated  by  a 
rich  widow,  to  whom  the  knight  is  paying  court.  Hudibras 
afterwards  visits  the  lady  ;  and  her  servants,  in  the  disguise  of 
devils,  give  him  a  sound  beating.  He  consults  a  lawyer  and  an 
astrologer,  to  obtain  revenge  and  satisfaction  ;  and  at  that  point 
the  narration  breaks  off,  incomplete. 

Evidently  the  fundamental  idea  of  this  poem  was  suggested  by 
the  ^Don  Quixotef  of  Cervantes  ;  but  its  spirit,  and  the  style  of  its 
development,  are  entirely  original.  Cervantes  makes  his  hero 
laughable,  without  impairing  our  respect  for  his  noble  and  heroic 


tler,  needy  wretch,  was  yet  alive, 
No  generous  patron  would  a  dinner  give  ; 
See  him.  when  starved  to  death  and  turned  to  dust, 
Presented  with  a  monumental  bust. 
The  poet's  fate  is  here  in  emblem  shown, 
lie  asked  for  bread,  and  he  received  a  stone."—  Samuel  Weslty. 


162  SAMUEL     BUTLER. 

character;  Butler  invests  his  personages  with  the  utmost  degree  of 
odium  that  is  compatible  with  the  sentiment  of  the  ludicrous.  As 
his  object  was  exclusively  satirical,  he  could  not  aud  did  not 
consider  any  of  the  noble  qualities  of  the  fanatics  whom  he  attacked. 
Much  of  his  ridicule  is  therefore  embittered  by  prejudice;  but 
much  more  will  retain  point  as  long  as  cant  and  hypocrisy  continue. 
Hudibras  is  the  best  burlesque  in  the  English  language.  "  The 
same  amount  of  learning,  wit,  shrewdness,  ingenious  and  deep 
thought,  felicitous  illustration  and  irresistible  drollery  has  never 
[elsewhere]  been  comprised  in  the  same  limits."  Butler's  style  is 
at  once  concise  and  suggestive ;  many  of  his  expressions  have  the 
terse  strength  of  proverbs,  and  at  the  same  time  open  boundless 
vistas  of  comic  association.  His  language  is  easy,  conversational, 
careless ;  familiar  and  even  vulgar  words  are  found  side  by  side 
with  thfe  pedantic  terms  of  art  and  learning ;  the  short  octosyllabic 
verse  moves  with  unflagging  vivacity  ;  and  the  constant  recurrence 
of  fantastic  rhymes  tickles  and  stimulates  the  fancy.  Yet,  although 
no  English  author  was  ever  more  witty  than  Butler,  he  is  utterly 
destitute  of  genial  humor ;  bis  analysis  of  character  is  pitilessly 
keen  and  clear ;  but  he  shows  no  power  in  sustaining  the  interest 
of  a  story.  Hence  he  neither  enlists  our  sympathy  nor  attracts 
that  curiosity  which  is  gratified  by  a  well-developed  intrigue.  "  If 
inexhaustible  wit  could  give  perpetual  pleasure,"  says  Johnson, 

"no  eye  could  ever  leave  half- read  the  work  of  Butler  ; 

however,  astonishment  soon  becomes  a  toilsome  pleasure,  and  the 
paucity  of  events  fatigues  the  attention  and  makes  the  perusal  of 
the  book  tedious." 

Among  Butler's  miscellaneous  writings  which  were  published 
after  his  death,  the  most  entertaining  are  a  series  of  prose  sketches. 
They  are  marked  by  that  wit  and  wealth  of  suggestion  which  was 
characteristic  of  his  genius.  Many  of  his  posthumous  poems  are 
caustic  and  undiscriminating  satires  upon  the  physical  investiga- 
tors of  his  day.  He  is  particularly  severe  upon  the  Royal  Society, 
which  he  ridicules  in  his  Elephant  in  the  Moon. 

In  this  age  of  debauchery,  John  Bunyan  (1628-1688),  the  master 
of  religious  allegory,  appeared.  He  came  from  the  lowest  grade  of 
social  life,  grew  up  to  manhood  with  an  education  so  meagre  that 
he  barely  knew  how  to  read  and  write,  and  yet  lie  produced  a  work 


JOHN     B  U  X  Y  A  N .  163 

which  places  him  foremost  among  the  writers  of  his  class.  What 
Shakespeare  is  to  English  dramatists,  what  Milton  is  to  English 
epic  poets,  that  John  Bunyan  is  to  writers  of  English  allegory. 
In  this  department  of  our  literature  none  approach  him. 

He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  Bedfordshire  tinker,  and  followed  his 
father's  trade  until  his  eighteenth  year.  He  then  served  for  a  few 
months  in  the  Parliamentary  army.  Returning  to  his  native  vil- 
lage, Elstow,  he  married  "  one  as  poor  as  himself."  He  says  that 
they  had  neither  dish  nor  spoon  betwixt  them."  Until  this  time 
Bunyan's  course  of  life  had  been  the  ordinary  one  of  a  poor, 
uneducated  village  lad,  stained  with  the  vice  of  profanity,  and 
too  much  given  to  rough  sports.  Doubtless  his  follies  had  often 
been  denounced  as  heinous  sins  by  the  earnest  Puritans  of  his 
acquaintance.  His  young  wife  was  a  devout  woman,  and  she 
sought  his  reformation.  By  inducing  him  to  read  two  religious 
books  bequeathed  to  her  by  a  dying  father,  and  by  leading  him  to 
the  church  of  which  she  was  a  member,  she  succeeded  in  awaken- 
ing bis  anxiety  concerning  the  future  life.  Once  aroused,  his 
sensitive  and  imaginative  soul  could  not  rest.  For  about  two  years 
his  mind  was  in  a  state  of  intense  gloom,  tormented  with  fears  for 
his  eternal  welfare,  and  perplexed  with  the  theological  quandaries 
of  the  day.  Finally,  by  what  he  always  deemed  a  special  exercise 
of  divine  mercy,  his  soul  found  peace.  He  united  with  the  Baptist 
church  of  Bedford,  and,  yielding  to  the  wishes  of  his  fellow- 
members,  he  availed  himself  of  his  journeyings  as  a  tinker  to 
exercise  the  vocation  of  a  preacher.  The  fervent  piety  and  rude 
eloquence  of  his  discourses  gradually  gained  him  wide  reputation, 
and  he  became  a  leading  man  among  the  Baptists.  As  such  he  was 
exposed  to  rigorous  persecution ;  for  Dissenters  were  regarded  by 
the  government  of  Charles  II.  as  in  sympathy  with  republican 
doctrines.  In  1660,  having  been  arrested  and  convicted  as  a  "com- 
mon upholder  of  conventicles,"  he  was  shut  up  in  Bedford  jail. 
There  he  remained  for  twelve  years,  steadfastly  refusing  to  purchase 
freedom  by  a  sacrifice  of  his  faith.  The  weary  years  were  spent  in 
working  for  the  support  of  his  family  and  in  writing  religious 
books.  His  patient  and  cheerful  piety  so  won  the  confidence  of  his 
keepers  that,  during  the  last  two  years  of  his  confinement,  he  was 
often  allowed  to  leave  the  prison.  In  1671  he  was  chosen  preacher 
of  the  Baptist  congregation  in  Bedford.  A  year  later,  when 


164  JOHNBUXYAN. 

liberated  by  James  II.'s  proclamation  of  universal  toleration,  he 
entered  upon  his  pastoral  labors  with  energy,  and  prosecuted  them 
to  the  end  of  his  life.  The  fame  of  his  sufferings,  his  genius  as  a 
writer,  his  power  as  a  speaker,  gave  him  unbounded  influence 
among  the  Baptists;  while  the  beauty  of  his  character  and  the 
catholic  liberality  of  his  views  secured  him  universal  esteem.  His 
ministrations  extended  over  the  whole  region  between  Bedford  and 
London,  and  involved  occasional  visits  to  the  metropolis  itself.  It 
was  in  London  that  his  death  occurred,  in  1688,  having  been  has- 
tened by  the  exposure  and  fatigue  of  a  journey  which  he  had 
undertaken  for  the  benevolent  purpose  of  reconciling  a  father 
and  son. 

Bunyan's  works  are  numerous,  and  entirely  of  a  religious 
character.  Only  three  among  them  demand  our  special  notice, — 
the  religious  autobiography  entitled  Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief 
of  Sinners,  and  the  two  religious  allegories,  Pilgrim^  Progress  and 
the  Holy  War.  The  first  gives  a  candid  account  of  Bunyan's  own 
conversion,  portraying  in  detail  the  struggles  of  a  human  soul 
striving  to  burst  its  bonds  of  sin  and  worldliness.  It  contains  pas- 
sages of  sublime  simplicity  and  pathos.  The  picture  has  interest 
for  the  philosopher  of  mind  as  well  as  for  the  religious  devotee; 
though  it  is  evident  that  both  its  lights  and  shades  have  been 
exaggerated  by  the  enthusiasm  of  Bunyan's  character.  He  was  a 
dreamer;  and  from  his  childhood,  as  he  tells  us  in  this  book,  he  had 
been  haunted  by  fearful  visions  of  the  lake  of  tire. 

The  Pilyrini's  Progress  from  this  World  to  that  ichich  Is  to  Come 
(155)  narrates  the  experience  of  a  Christian  in  going  from  a  life 
of  sin  to  everlasting  bliss.  Christian,  dwelling  in  the  City  of  De- 
struction, is  incited  by  an  agonizing  consciousness  of  his  lost  estate 
to  journey  towards  -the  Xcw  Jerusalem.  All  the  adventures  of  his 
travels,  the  scenes  through  which  he  passes,  the  friends  and  fellow- 
pilg-rims  whom  he  finds  upon  the  road,  typify  the  joys  and  trials  of 
a  religious  life.  Bunyan's  imaginary  persons  excite  all  the  interest 
and  sympathy  which  belong  to  human  beings.  The  doctrine  of  sal- 
vation by  grace  is  the  burden  of  his  thought  and  the  moral  of  his 
story ;  he  writes  for  sinners  perishing  in  an  abyss  whence  he  has 
been  snatched.  This  makes  him  direct,  fervent,  pathetic.  Occa- 
sionally, too,  a  vein  of  rich  humor,  outcropping  in  argument  or 
description,  indicates  the  genial  healthfulness  of  his  mind,  and 


JOIItf    BUNYAIST.  165 

draws  him  into  closer  sympathy  with  his  readers.*  He  had  read 
but  few  books ;  the  Bible  and  Fox's  Book  of  Martyrs  comprised  his 
entire  library  during  the  twelve  years  of  his  imprisonment.  He  is 
said  to  have  known  the  former  almost  by  heart.  That  his  mind  was 
saturated  with  its  spirit  is  indicated  by  the  mode  of  his  thinking, 
by'tfie  character  of  his  imagery,  by  the  very  form  of  his  expression. 
His  style  is  nervous,  plain,  idiomatic;  it  derives  strength  and  terse- 
ness from  its  large  proportion  of  Saxon  words  ;  is  often  picturesque 
and  poetical,  sometimes  ungrammatical  ;  but  it  is  always  that  lan- 
guage of  the  common  people  which  attains  its  highest  vigor  and 
purity  in  the  English  Bible.f 

Pilgrim's  Progress  is  in  two  parts.  The  first  was  written  in 
Bedford  jail,  to  "  divert  Bunyan's  vacant  seasons,"  and  was 
1678]  published  in  1678.  Its  popularity  was  most  remarkable. 
After  it  had  passed  through  eight  editions,  Bunyan  incor- 
porated with  it  the  second  part,  in  which  the  celestial  pilgrimage 
is  accomplished  by  Christian's  wife  and  children  whom  he  had  left 
in  the  City  of  Destruction.  From  that  day  till  this  its  popularity 
hus  continued;  childhood  and  old  age  find  delight  in  its  story. 
Its  translation  may  be  found  in  every  language  which  contains  a 
religious  literature. 

The  Holy  War  is  an  allegory  typifying,  in  the  siege  and  capture 
of  the  City  of  Mansoul,  the  strife  between  sin  and  religion  in  the 
human  spirit.  Diabolus  and  Immanuel  are  the  leaders  of  the  hos- 
tile armies.  The  narrative  is  far  less  interesting  than  the  Pilgrim''* 
Progress.  Its  style  is  less  piquant  and  vivacious. 

Few  authors  have  secured  a  firmer  hold  upon  the  affection  and 
sympathy  of  their  readers  than  Izaak  Walton  (1593-1683).  He 
was  born  in  Stafford,  and  passed  his  early  manhood  in  London, 

*  "Ingenious  dreamer!  in  whose  well-told  tale 
Sweet  fiction  and  sweet  truth  alike  prevail; 
Whose  humorous  vein,  strong  sense,  and  simple  style 
May  teach  the  gayest,  make  the  gravest  smile  ; 
Witty  and  well  employed,  and  like  thy  Lord 
Speaking  in  parables  his  slighted  word."—  Cou'per. 

t  "  The  style  is  delightful  to  every  reader,  and  invaluable  as  a  study  to  eveiy 
person  who  wishes  to  obtain  a  quick  command  over  the  English  language.  The 
vocabulary  is  the  vocabulary  of  the  common  people.  There  is  not  an  expression, 
if  we  except  a  few  technical  terms  of  theology,  which  would  puzzle  the  rudest 
peasant.  We  have  observed  several  pages  which  do  not  contain  a  single  word  of 
more  than  two  syllables."— Macavlay. 


16G  IZAAK     WALT  OK. 

where  he  carried  on  the  business  of  a  linen-draper.  At  fifty 
years  of  age  he  retired  from  trade  with  a  competence  sufficient 
for  his  modest  desires ;  and  he  lived  to  the  great  age  of  ninety  in 
ease  and  tranquillity,  enjoying  the  intimate  friendship  of  many 
learned  and  accomplished  men,  and  amusing  himself  with  literature 
and  rural  pleasures.  He  produced  the  Lives  of  five  distinguished 
contemporaries, — Donne,  Wotton,  Hooker,  George  Herbert,  and 
Bishop  Sanderson,  the  first,  second,  and  last  of  whom  he  had  known 
personally.  These  biographies  stand  alone  in  literature  ;  they  are 
written  with  such  tender  grace,  with  such  an  unaffected  fervor  of 
personal  attachment  and  simple  piety,  that  they  will  always  be 
regarded  as  masterpieces.  But  Walton's  best  production  is  T7ie 
Complete  Angler  (158),  a  treatise  on  his  beloved  pastime  of  fishing. 
It  is  thrown  into  the  form  of  dialogues — first  carried  on  by  a  hunter, 
a  falconer,  and  an  angler,  each  of  whom,  in  turn,  extols  the  delights 
of  his  favorite  sport,  until  the  hunter  is  vanquished  by  the  eloquence 
of  the  angler,  and  desires  to  become  his  disciple.  The  veteran 
then  initiates  him  into  the  mysteries  of  the  gentle  craft,  and  as  the 
two  continue  their  discourse,  technical  precepts  are  interspersed  with 
exquisite  pictures  of  English  river  scenery,  and  racy  descriptions 
of  the  fortunes  of  ':  angling  days."  Every  page  is  spiced  with  the 
quaint  thought  of  the  philosopher  of  the  rod  ;  his  sensibility  to  the 
beauties  of  Xature,  and  his  cheerful,  grateful  piety  find  constant 
and  happy  expression ;  while  the  language  of  the  book  is  as  pure 
and  sweet  and  graceful  as  its  thoughts.  An  occasional  touch  of 
innocent,  old-world  pedantry  only  adds  to  its  indefinable  charm ; 
and  its  popularity  seems  destined  to  endure  as  long  as  the  language. 
A  second  part  was  added  to  the  Complete  Angler  by  CHARLES  COT- 
TON, the  poet,  an  adopted  son  of  Walton. 

Another  writer  of  this  epoch  whose  interests  were  divided 
Cetween  literary  pursuits  and  the  never-cloying  amusements  of 
rural  life,  is  John  Evelyn  (1620-1706).  He  was  a  gentleman  of 
good  family  and  considerable  fortune,  and  merits  distinction  as 
one  of  the  first  Englishmen  who  practised  the  art  of  gardening  and 
planting  on  scientific  principles.  To  the  timely  publication  of  his 
Sylva  (1664),  a  work  on  the  management  of  forest  trees,  England  is 
largely  indebted  for  her  present  abundance  of  timber.  Terra,  hia 
treatise  on  agriculture  and  gardening,  appeared  in  1675.  Both 


EVELYX    AND     PEPYS.  16? 

books  display  much  practical  good  sense,  animated  by  a  genuine 
love  of  Nature. 

Evelyn's  personal  character  was  a  model  of  purity  and  benevo- 
lence ;  his  household  and  his  friends  seem  to  have  formed  a  little 
oasis  of  virtuous  refinement  in  the  general  depravity  of  their  time. 
Through  a  Diary  (159),  which  extends  over  the  greater  part  of 
his  life,  he  has  given  us  valuable  historical  information  concerning 
business  and  social  customs,  and  a  mournful  description  of  the 
unparalleled  corruption  of  Charles  II. 's  court.  His  tone  is  always 
grave  and  dignified,  very  different  from  that  of  his  loquacious 
friend,  Samuel  Pepys  (1632-1703),  whose  Diary  is  the  gossipy 
chronicle  of  the  same  gay  and  profligate  era.  Pepys  began  life  as 
a  subordinate  clerk  in  one  of  the  government  offices.  By  his 
punctuality,  honesty  and  devotion  to  business,  he  rose  to  the  im- 
portant position  of  Secretary  to  the  Admiralty.  He  was  one  of 
the  few  able  and  upright  officials  connected  with  the  government 
during  the  reigns  of  Charles  II.  and  James  II.  The  accession  of 
William  and  Mary  deprived  him  of  his  position,  and  the  last  years 
of  his  life  were  passed  in  dignified  retirement. 

The  Diary  (160),  through  which  Pepys  has  immortalized 
himself  and  won  the  gratitude  of  posterity,  was  written  in  short- 
hand, and  was  first  deciphered  and  published  in  1825.  It  extends 
over  the  nine  years  from  1660  to  1669  ;  and  we  have  no  other  book 
which  gives  so  life-like  a  picture  of  that  extraordinary  state  of 
society  which  fell  under  the  author's  observation.  Not  only  was 
Pepys  by  nature  a  thorough  gossip,  curious  as  a  magpie,  and 
somewhat  convivial  in  his  tastes  withal;  but  his  official  duties 
brought  him  into  contact  with  every  class,  from  the  king  and 
his  ministers  down  to  the  poor,  half-starved  sailors  whose  pay  he 
distributed.  Writing  entirely  for  himself,  he  chronicles  with 
ludicrous  naivete  the  successive  details  of  his  own  rise  in  wealth 
and  importance,  all  the  minutias  of  his  domestic  affairs,  and  of  the 
dress,  manners,  and  social  amusements  of  himself  and  his  associates. 
King,  statesmen,  courtiers,  players,  actually  live  again  in  his  pages, 
and  Pepys's  own  character — an  interesting  compound  of  shrewdness, 
vanity,  worldly  wisdom  and  simplicity — infinitely  enhances  the 
piquancy  of  his  revelations.  His  book  possesses  the  twofold 
interest  of  the  value  and  curiosity  of  its  matter,  and  of  the  coloring 
given  to  that  matter  by  the  oddities  of  the  narrator. 


168  EDWABD    HYDE. 

One  of  the  most  prominent  figures  in  the  Long  Parliament  and 
in  the  Age  of  the  Restoration,  was  Edward  Hyde,  first  Earl  of 
Clarendon  (1608-1674).  He  was  educated  for  the  profession  of 
law ;  but  at  an  early  age  he  quitted  the  bar,  and  engaged  in  the 
more  exciting  struggles  of  political  life.  He  sat  in  the  Short 
Parliament  of  1640,  and  was  also  a  conspicuous  orator  in  the  Long 
Parliament,  at  first  supporting  the  Opposition  ;  but  after  a  violent 
quarrel  with  the  more  radical  champions  of  the  national  cause,  he 
gradually  transferred  his  support  to  the  Royalists.  Upon  the 
outbreak  of  civil  war  he  fled  from  London  to  join  the  king  at  York; 
and  from  that  time  forth  was  one  of  the  most  faithful,  though 
certainly  one  of  the  most  discreet,  adherents  of  the  royal  cause.  In 
1644  he  was  named  a  member  of  the  Council  appointed  to  advise 
and  take  charge  of  Prince  Charles,  whom  he  accompanied  to 
Jersey,  and  whose  exile  and  misfortunes  he  shared  from  the  execu- 
tion of  Charles  I.  until  the  Restoration.  After  the  throne  of  the 
Stuarts  had  been  re-established,  Hyde  reaped  the  reward  of  his 
services.  He  was  made  Lord  Chancellor  of  England,  created  first 
a  Baron,  afterwards,  in  1661,  Earl  of  Clarendon,  and  for  several 
years  exercised  a  powerful  influence  in  the  national  counsels. 
However,  his  popularity,  as  well  as  his  favor  with  the  king,  soon 
began  to  decline.  The  austerity  of  his  morals  was  a  constant 
rebuke  to  the  profligate  Court ;  his  advice,  generally  in  favor  of 
prudence  and  economy,  was  distasteful  to  the  king;  while,  like 
many  other  statesmen  who  have  returned  to  power  after  long  exile, 
he  failed  to  accommodate  himself  to  the  advanced  state  of  public 
opinion.  The  people  looked  with  distrust  upon  his  increasing 
wealth  and  power,  and  demanded  his  removal  from  office  after  he 
had  used  his  influence  for  the  sale  of  Dunkirk.  Charles  II.  was  all 
too  ready  to  sacrifice  his  minister  to  the  general  clamor.  Clarendon 
was  impeached  for  high  treason.  He  went  into  exile,  and  passed 
the  rest  of  his  life  in  France,  occupied  in  completing  his  History. 

Clarendon's  great  work  is  the  History  of  the  Great  Rebellion 
(156),  as  he,  a  Royalist,  designated  the  history  of  the  Civil  War. 
It  comprises  a  detailed  account  of  the  struggle,  generally  in  the 
form  of  political  memoirs,  together  with  a  narrative  of  the  cir- 
cumstances which  brought  about  the  Restoration.  As  much  of  the 
material  was  derived  from  the  author's  personal  experience,  the 
work  is  of  high  value ;  while  the  dignity  and  animation  of  the 


THOMAS    HOBBES.  169 

style,  in  spite  of  occasioual  carelessness  and  obscurity,  will  ever  rank 
him  among  English  classics.  Impartial  he  is  not ;  but  his  parti- 
ality is  less  frequent  and  less  flagrant  than  could  fairly  have  been 
anticipated.  Genuine  regard  for  the  welfare  of  his  country  is  as 
evident  in  his  writings  as  in  most  of  the  acts  of  his  life.  He  is 
unrivalled  in  the  delineation  of  character.  Natural  penetration 
and  great  knowledge  of  the  world  combined  to  make  him  an  acute 
observer  of  human  nature ;  and  we  are  indebted  to  his  spirited  pen 
for  many  a  lifelike  portrait  of  his  distinguished  contemporaries. 

"  The  great  Cavalier-prince  of  historical  portrait-painters  outlived 
the  great  Puritan-prince  of  epic  poets  but  a  few  days.  Born  in  the 
same  year,  Clarendon  and  Milton  stood  all  their  lives  apart,  tower- 
ing in  rival  greatness  above  their  fellows  in  the  grand  struggle  of 
their  century.  The  year  of  the  Restoration,  which  brought  splen- 
dor to  the  Cavalier,  plunged  the  blind  old  Puritan  in  [into]  bitter 
poverty.  But  a  few  years  more,  and  the  great  Earl,  too,  was  stricken 
down  from  his  lofty  place,  and  sent  a  homeless  wanderer  to  a 
stranger's  land.  To  both,  their  sternest  discipline  was  their  greatest 
gain;  for  when  the  colors  of  hope  and  gladness  had  faded  from  the 
landscape  of  their  lives,  and  nothing  but  a  waste  of  splendorless 
days  seemed  to  stretch  in  cheerless  vista  before  them,  they  turned 
to  the  desk  for  solace,  and  found  in  the  exercise  of  their  literary 
skill,  not  peace  alone,  but  fame.  Milton  wrote  most  of  his  great 
poem  in  blindness  and  disgrace ;  Clarendon  completed  his  great 
history  during  a  painful  exile."  * 

Thomas  Hobbes  (1588-1674)  was  a  metaphysician,  some  of 
whose  works  belong  to  this  period  of  our  literature.  He  was  born 
at  Malmesbury,  was  educated  at  Oxford,  as  a  student  at  the  uni- 
versity was  devoted  to  Logic  and  Philosophy,  and  in  his  maturity 
was  a  man  of  wonderful  mental  activity.  Upon  leaving  Oxford  he 
travelled  on  the  Continent  as  a  tutor  to  the  young  Earl  of  Devon- 
shire, and  till  the  end  of  his  long  life  retained  an  intimacy  with  tho 
Earl's  family.  His  patron  secured  him  the  acquaintance  of  the 
most  distinguished  men  of  the  day— among  them  Bacon,  Ben  Jon- 
son,  and  Lord  Herbert.  Subsequently  Hobbes  passed  several  years 
in  France  and  in  Italy,  and  enlivened  his  studious  pursuits  by 
association  with  the  most  illustrious  of  his  contemporaries — with 
Galileo  and  with  Descartes. 

*  Collier. 


170  THOMAS     HOBBES. 

Hobbes's  earliest  literary  work  was  a  translation  of  Thucydidet, 
The  first  hints  of  his  philosophical  system  were  conveyed  in  two 
political  treatises,  published  in  1642  and  in  1650,  for  the  avowed 
purpose  of  quelling  the  spirit  of  republicanism  in  England.  They 
were  both  incorporated  into  his  most  celebrated  work,  the  Levia- 
than, or  the  Matter,  Form,  and  Power  of  a  Commonwealth,  Ecclesi- 
astical and  Civil.  Therein  he  asserts  that  the  primary  motive  of  all 
human  action  is  selfish  interest ;  that  human  nature  is  therefore 
essentially  ferocious  and  corrupt,  requiring  the  restraint  of  arbitrary 
power  to  bridle  its  passion.  From  these  premises  the  expediency 
of  despotic  rule  is  deduced.  He  was  thus  the  earliest  champion  of 
that  selfish  system  of  Moral  Philosophy  which  has  found  a  more 
recent  supporter  in  Jeremy  Bentham.  The  Behemoth,  a  history  of 
the  Civil  War,  embracing  the  period  between  1640  and  1660,  was 
finished  shortly  before  his  death. 

The  doctrines  promulgated  by  Ilobbes  were  odious  to  the 
religious  people  of  his  time,  and  were  most  welcome  to  the  Court. 
His  style  is  a  model  of  its  kind — clear,  nervous,  forcible,  it  conveys 
the  exact  meaning  and  produces  the  exact  impression  intended. 
He  was  a  man  whose  reading  was  profound ;  in  the  various 
branches  of  science  and  literature  which  he  cultivated,  he  displayed 
that  vigor  which  belongs  to  the  thoughtful  reader  of  few  books. 

The  most  energetic  assailant  of  Hobbes's  conclusions  in  Phil- 
osophy was  DR.  RALPH  CUDWORTH  (1617-1688),  Regius  Professor 
of  Divinity  at  Cambridge,  a  vigorous  writer  and  a  candid  polemic. 
So  fairly  did  he  put  the  arguments  of  the  Atheists,  that  he  brought 
down  on  himself — most  unjustly  indeed — the  imputation  of  Athe- 
ism. His  great  work  is  the  True  Intellectual  System  of  the  Universe. 


JOHN    DRYDEN. 

"  Without  either  creative  imagination  or  any  power  of  pathos,  he  is  in  argument, 
in  satire,  and  in  declamatory  magnificence  the  greatest  of  our  poets." — G.  L.  Craik. 

"He  was  of  a  very  easy,  of  a  very  pleasing  access;  bat  somewhat  sour  and,  as 
it  were,  diffident  in  his  advances  to  others."—  William  C'ongreve. 

"My  conversation  is  slow  and  dull,  my  humour  saturnine  and  unreserved.  In 
short,  I  am  none  of  those  who  break  jests  in  company,  and  make  repartees." — John 
Dryden. 

"  What  a  sycophant  to  the  public  taste  was  Dryden  1  Sinning  against  his  feel- 
ings, lewd  in  his  writings,  though  chaste  in  his  conversation." —  William  Cowper. 

"  His  plays,  excepting  a  few  scenes,  are  utterly  disfigured  by  vice  or  folly  or  both. 
His  translations  appear  too  much  the  offspring  of  haste  and  hunger ;  even  his  fables 
are  ill-chosen  tales  conveyed  in  an  incorrect  though  spirited  versification.  Yet 
amidst  this  great  number  of  loose  productions,  the  refuse  of  our  language,  there  are 
found  some  small  pieces,  his  "  Ode  to  St.  Cecilia,"  the  greater  part  of  "  Absalom 
and  Achitophel,"  and  a  few  more  which  discover  so  great  genius,  such  richness  of 
expression,  such  pomp  and  vanity  of  numbers,  that  they  leave  us  equally  full  of 
regret  and  indignation  on  account  of  the  inferiority,  or  rather,  great  absurdity  of 
his  other  writings."— David  Hume. 

"  I  admire  Dryden's  talents  and  genius  highly;  but  his  is  not  a  poetical  genius. 
The  only  qualities  I  can  find  in  Dryden  that  are  essentially  poetical  are  a  certain 

ardour  and  impetuosity  of  mind  with  an  excellent  ear There  is  not  a  single 

image  from  nature  in  the  whole  of  his  works." — William  Wordsworth. 

In  the  last  year  of  the  fourteenth  century  Chaucer  died. 
Just  three  hundred  years  later  John  Dryden  (1631-1700) 
dropped  his  pen,  closed  the  bulky  volume  of  his  writings, 
and  ended  his  eventful  career.  There  is  no  special  reason 
for  naming  these  two  famous  poets  together,  except  that  by 
reminding  ourselves  of  the  three  completed  centuries  that 
came  between  them,  we  may  fix  the  dates  of  their  respective 
deaths.  As  poets  they  were  utterly  unlike.  Chaucer's  muse 
would  not  dwell  in-doors,  would  roam  the  fields  and  the 
highways,  addressing  itself  to  the  leaves,  the  flowers,  the 
birds  and  the  people ;  but  the  retirement  and  the  conveni- 
ences of  the  library  gave  inspiration  to  the  muse  of  Dryden. 
His  pleasure  was  in  an  argument  rather  than  in  a  landscape ; 


172  DKYDEN. 

there  was  for  him  more  music  in  the  rhythm  of  the  epigram 
than  in  all  the  melodies  of  nature.  During  the  Civil  War 
and  the  Commonwealth  the  interests  of  his  friends  were 
identified  with  the  Puritan  cause.  His  association  with  the 
austere  and  unpoetical  may  account  for  his  displaying  few 
signs  of  literary  precocity.  At  the  age  of  twenty-nine  he 
had  written  nothing  but  school-boy  translations  and  odes, 
and  an  elegy  on  the  death  of  Cromwell.  Under  a  continu- 
ance of  republican  rule  he  might  have  used  his  abilities  to 
achieve  position  in  the  state,  without  one  thought  of  a 
poetical  career.  But  the  Restoration  took  place  just  as  he 
was  ready  to  enter  active  life ;  and  the  powerful  relatives 
from  whom  he  had  expected  preferment  came  into  disgrace. 
It  was  necessary  for  him  to  begin  the  world  on  his  own 
account,  and  he  chose  to  begin  it  on  the  winning  side. 
Taste  to  appreciate  literary  talent,  and  power  to  reward  it, 
were  both  with  the  party  of  the  royalists.  Accordingly 
Dryden  abandoned  his  Puritan  predilections,  published  an 
ode  of  fervent  welcome  to  the  returning  king,  and  joined 
the  crowd  which  struggled  for  place  and  distinction  around 
the  throne.  The  revival  of  the  drama  had  just  reopened  a 
lucrative  field  for  the  professional  author,  and  Dryden  found 
it  expedient  to  devote  himself  principally  to  the  stage.  He 
worked  with  energy  and  tact,  choosing  the  subjects  suited  to 
the  taste  of  the  time,  and  soliciting  in  laudatory  prefaces 
the  patronage  of  the  powerful.  He  had  already  attained 
much  dramatic  popularity,  when,  in  1667,  his  first  narrative 
poem  attracted  general  admiration.  This  was  the  Annus 

Mirabilis  (142),  written  to  commemorate  the  ter- 
1666]  rible  Plague  and  Fire  of  London,  and  the  War  with 

the  Dutch.  Its  dignity  of  style  and  its  harmo- 
nious verse  merited  praise ;  and  the  fact  that  it  was  filled 
with  unfounded  eulogy  of  the  worthless  king  by  no  means 
detracted  from  the  fame  of  its  author.  The  subject  of 
Dryden's  next  production  was  equally  fortunate.  In  an. 


DETDEN.  173 

elaborate  prose  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry,  he  upheld  the 
use  of  rhyme  in  tragedy,  and  ranged  himself  with  those  who 
were  trying  to  engraft  French  dramatic  rules  upon  the 
English  stage.  From  this  time  the  rise  of  his  fortunes  was 
rapid.  In  1670  he  was  appointed  Poet  Laureate  and  Eoyal 
Historiographer.  The  King's  Company  of  Players  con- 
tracted with  him  to  supply  them  with  three  dramas  a  year.* 
He  associated  with  the  favorites  at  Court.  He  enjoyed  the 
patronage  of  the  king ;  his  income  was  respectable ;  the 
prestige  of  his  honorable  descent,  his  fine  personal  appearance 
and  his  brilliant  talent,  won  him  an  Earl's  daughter  for 
a  wife.  He  was  the  oracle  of  scholarly  circles,  and  an 
admired  member  of  fashionable  society;  while  the  versatile 
character  of  his  mind,  as  well  as  regard  for  his  own  interests, 
led  him  to  take  an  active  share  in  public  affairs.  We  owe 
some  of  the  most  powerful  efforts  of  his  genius  to  his 
participation  in  political  intrigues.  Absalom  and  Achitophel 
(144),  his  first  and  best  satire,  appeared  in  1681,  when 
such  intrigues  were  especially  virulent.  It  was  a  political 
pamphlet,  written  in  the  interests  of  the  king's  party,  attack- 
ing the  policy  of  Chancellor  Shaftesbury ;  and  at  the  same 
time  it  gave  Dryden  an  opportunity  to  revenge  himself  upon 
his  personal  foes  and  literary  rivals, — the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, f  and  the  poets  Settle  and  Shad  well.  The  enthu- 
siasm with  which  it  was  received,  confirmed  Dryden's  poetical 
supremacy,  and  seems  to  have  acquainted  him  with  his  own 
powers.  The  attack  upon  Shaftesbury  was  renewed,  in  a 
second  satire  entitled  The  Medal,  and  in  the  following  year 


*  This  engagement  he  did  not  long  fulfill,  for  in  1694  he  had  produced  hut  twenty- 
eight  plays  in  as  many  years.  He  was  still  employed  by  the  company,  hie  services 
evidently  being  considered  too  valuable  to  he  relinquished  on  any  terms. 

t  In  this  satire,  names  from  the  Old  Testament  indicate  the  leaders  of  the  Whigs, 
in  Dryden's  day.  The  Duke  of  Monmonth  was  Absalom  ;  the  Earl  of  Shaftesbury 
Achitophel:  and  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  Zimri  (145).  Dryden  had  a  special 
grudge  against  Buckingham  for  his  share  in  the  production  of  a  popular  farce.  Tht 
Rehearsal,  in  which  Dryden's  dramatic  faults  were  mercilessly  ridiculed. 


174  DRYDEX. 

his  brilliant  MacFlecknoe  *  brought  discomfiture  again  to 
Settle  and  Shadwell. 

In  the  same  year  his  poem  the  Religio  Laid  (147), 
was  written  in  eloquent  defence  of  the  Anglican  Church 
against  the  Dissenters.  It  was  probably  the  utterance  of  a 
man  already  perplexed  concerning  religious  questions  which 
were  afterwards  answered  by  him  in  a  way  altogether  incon- 
sistent with  the  sentiments  of  his  poem.  In  1686  he  forsook 
the  church  which  he  had  so  powerfully  defended  and 
entered  the  Eoman  Catholic  communion.  The  good  faith 
of  this  conversion  has  often  been  called  in  question ;  for 
it  coincided  suspiciously  with  King  James's  proselyting 
measures.  Many  circumstances,  however,  tend  to  prove  its 
sincerity ;  he  patiently  suffered  deprivation  and  some  perse- 
cution on  account  of  his  new  faith,  he  carefully  trained  his 
children  in  the  venerable  church  of  Rome,  he  wrote  his 
Hind  and  Panther  in  sympathy  with  her  reverses. 

The  Revolution  of  1688,  by  which  William  and  Mary 
were  placed  upon  the  throne  of  England,  deprived  Dryden 
of  his  Laureateship.  The  Protestant  Court  did  not  smile 
upon  the  Catholic  poet.  But  poverty,  advancing  age,  failing 
health,  and  the  malice  of  exultant  foes,  proved  powerless  to 
impair  his  energy ;  and  his  last  years  were  the  most  illus- 
trious of  his  literary  career.  He  continued  to  write  for  the 
stage  until  1694 ;  but  after  that  year  he  busied  himself 
chiefly  with  translation.  His  poetical  versions  of  Juvenal, 
Persius  and  Virgil  appeared  before  1697;  and  the  very  last 
year  of  his  life  was  made  illustrious  by  his  Fables,  a  series 
of  renderings  from  Chaucer  and  Boccaccio. 

For  twelve  years  Dryden  had  lived  in  obscurity  and 
neglect;  yet  when  he  died  in  1700,  evidence  of  the  high 
esteem  in  which  he  was  held  was  promptly  given;  for  while 

*  Flecknoe  was  a  rain,  busy  scribbler  for  whom  Dryden  felt  great  contempt. 
By  assigning  the  name  with  a  patronymic  to  Shadwell,  that  poet  is  represented  as 
the  heir  of  Flecknoe's  stupidity. 


DKTDEX.  175 

his  family  was  preparing  to  bury  him  in  a  style  suited  to 
humble  circumstances,  a  large  subscription  was  raised  to 
give  him  whatever  tribute  there  might  be  in  an  imposing 
funeral.  His  body  was  conveyed  in  state  to  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  was  interred  between  the  tombs  of  Chaucer  and 
Cowley. 

Critics  have  justly  said  that  Dryden,  more  than  any 
other  poet,  would  gain- appreciation 'from  a  chronological 
survey  of  his  writings.  In  range  of  thought,  and  in  power 
of  expression,  he  was  a  man  of  steady  growth.  This  develop- 
ment is  indicated  by  the  departments  of  composition  to 
which  he  successively  devoted  himself.  His  panegyrical 
poems  and  his  dramas  which  pandered  to  the  corrupt  senti- 
ments of  his  age,  were  produced  in  the  years  of  his  struggle 
for  recognition ;  his  best  dramas,  his  thoughtful  criticisms, 
his  satires,  polemics,  translations,  fables  and  odes, — in  short, 
all  those  works  exhibiting  the  higher  qualities  of  his  mind, 
were  written  in  the  dignified  maturity  of  his  manhood,  or 
in  his  noble  old  age. 

In  his  first  plays  he  is  the  representative  of  the  great 
revolution  in  taste  which  followed  the  Restoration,  sup- 
planting the  noble,  romantic  drama  of  the  Elizabethan  em 
by  a  travesty  of  French  models.  His  comedies  are  degraded 
to  the  immoral  public  sentiment.  There  is  in  them  no  fine 
delineation  of  character,  no  flow  of  humor.  They  were 
popular  because  they  were  gross ;  and  their  author  courted 
popularity  as  the  means  by  which  he  could  replenish  his 
shrunken  purse.  Like  all  other  productions  of  mercenary 
art.  these  dramas  were  soulless  and  mean.*  In  tragedy  lu; 
strove  towards  superhuman  ideals  of  heroic  and  amorous  life, 
and  succeeded  in  being  incredibly  bombastic  and  unnatural. 
He  seems  to  have  been  conscious  of  his  own  defects,  for  he 
exercised  much  ingenuity  in  concealing  them  from  the 

*  "  His  [Dryden's]  indelicacy  was  like  the  forced  impudence  of  a  bashftil  man." 
—  Walter  Scott. 


176  DRYDEtf. 

public.  His  comedies  were  enlivened  by  witty  allusions  and 
curious  intrigue ;  his  tragedies  were  sustained  by  pic- 
turesque situations  and  powerful  declamation.  Over  all  he 
threw  the  veil  of  graceful  versification,  easy,  melodious, 
balancing  grievous  defects  of  sense  by  noble  harmony  of 
sound.  His  recognition  of  his  own  indebtedness  to  this 
help  may  have  made  him  so  long  an  advocate  of  the  use  of 
•rhyme  in  tragedy.  Innis  later  years,  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Shakespearean  authors  led  Dry  den  to  a  juster 
idea  of  the  province  of  the  drama.  He  returned  to  the 
national  use  of  blank  verse,  and  developed  considerable 
power  in  portraying  violent  passion  and  strongly-marked 
character.  There  is  splendid  imagery  in  many  of  his  pass- 
ages. In  the  preface  of  All  for  Love,  the  poet  thus  acknowl- 
edges the  source  of  his  inspiration :  "  In  my  style  I  have 

professed  to  imitate  the  divine  Shakespeare I 

hope  I  may  affirm,  and  without  vanity,  that  by  imitating 
him  I  have  excelled  myself." 

Dryden's  non-dramatic  poems  were  generally  written  in 
the  heroic  couplet,  a  measure  which  he  wielded  with  peculiar 
power.  Its  regular  structure  served  his  purpose  alike  in 
argument,  description,  narration,  and  declamation.  The 
flowing  music  of  the  rhythm,  instead  of  weakening  his 
thought,  seemed  to  give  it  point  and  energy.  His  was  a 
mind  in  which  understanding  outweighed  imagination. 
The  productions  of  his  earlier  years,  the  Heroic  Stan- 
zas on  the  Death  of  Cromwell  and  the  Annus  Mirabilis, 
though  they  rise  far  above  the  level  of  ordinary  pro- 
ductions, rise  by  virtue  of  excellences  of  style.  But 
fourteen  years  later  those  excellences  of  style,  when  vital- 
ized by  deep  thought  and  genuine  purpose,  electrified  all 
England.  Absalom  and  AchitopJiel  exhibits  the  finest 
qualities  of  the  English  language  as  a  vehicle  for  reasoning 
and  description.  It  is  full  of  masterpieces  of  character- 
painting,  not  always  just,  but  always  vigorous.  Religio 


DRYDEN.  177 

Laid  and  the  Hind  and  Panther  display  Dryden's  power  in 
that  most  difficult  species  of  writing  which  masks  abstract 
reasoning  in  poetical  form.  The  arguments  of  each  are 
clear.  The  powerful  march  of  the  thought,  the  noble  out- 
bursts of  enthusiasm,  the  rhetoric,  and  the  beauty  of  the 
abundant  illustration,  take  the  judgment  by  storm,  and 
make  us  alternately  converts  to  the  one  faith  and  to  the 
other.  Religio  Laid  is  a  direct  expression  of  doctrinal 
views.  The  Hind  and  Panther  is  half-allegorical  in  form. 
Two  animals  are  represented  as  engaging  in  an  elaborate 
argument  concerning  the  churches  which  they  symbolize. 
The  "  milk-white  hind  "  is  the  Eoman  Catholic,  the  panther 
the  Established  Church,  while  various  minor  sects  take  part 
in  the  discussion  in  the  characters  of  the  wolf,  the  bear,  the 
fox,  etc.  The  absurdity  of  this  plan,  half-excused  by  its 
novelty,  is  sometimes  wholly  forgotten  in  the  scope  it  gives 
for  picturesque  imagery  and  witty  descriptive  touches. 

Many  beautiful  songs  are  interspersed  among  the  scenes 
of  Dryden's  dramas;  but  his  most  admired  lyric  is  the  Ode 
on  St.  Cecilia's  Day*  (15O).  It  was  written  to  be  set  to 
music,  and  celebrates  the  powers  and  triumphs  of  that  art. 
In  energy  and  in  harmony  it  surpasses  all  other  lyrics  of 
our  language. 

Dryden's  version  of  the  ^Eneid  is  the  most  famous  of  his 
translations.  The  translator  had  a  spirit  much  unlike  that 
of  the  old  master,  and  could  not  reproduce  the  spirit  of  the 
poem.  The  majesty  of  Virgil's  manner  is  always  tempered 
by  consummate  grace  ;  and  Dryden,  however  endowed  with 
majesty,  was  deficient  in  elegance  and  grace.  He  was  too 
free  and  careless  to  give  a  faithful  version  of  the  most  accu- 

*  "  Mr.  St.  John,  afterwards  Lord  Bolingbroke,  happening  to  pay  a  morning 
visit  to  Dryden,  whom  he  always  respected,  found  him  in  an  unusual  agitation  of 
spirits,  even  to  a  trembling.  On  inquiring  the  cause— 'I  have  been  up  all  night,' 
replied  the  old  bard ;  '  my  musical  friends  made  me  promise  to  write  them  an  ode 
for  the  Feast  of  St.  Cecilia;  I  have  been  BO  struck  with  the  subject  which  occurred 
to  me,  that  I  could  net  leave  it  till  I  had  completed  it — here  it  is,  finished  at  one 
sitting.' "—  Wartov. 


178  DBTDEX. 

rate  of  poems.  A  similar  lack  of  adaptability  is  noticed  in 
his  renderings  of  the  Fables  from  Chaucer  and  Boccaccio; 
but  their  flowing  ease  of  expression,  the  frequent  recurrence 
of  beautiful  lines  and  striking  images,  and  their  freedom 
from  the  author's  fault  of  occasional  coarseness,  make  them 
most  welcome  illustrations  of  his  poetical  power. 

Dryden's  prose  writings  are  numerous,  and  must  have 
weight  in  determining  our  estimate  of  his  ability  and  influ- 
ence. They  are  in  the  forms  of  essays,  prefaces,  or  dedica- 
tions prefixed  to  his  various  works.  He  was  the  first 
enlightened  critic  who  wrote  in  the  English  language ;  but 
in  criticism  as  in  poetry  he  was  a  development.  Macaulay 
acutely  remarks,  that  no  man  influenced  his  age  so  much  as 
Dryden,  because  no  man  was  so  much  influenced  by  his  age. 
An  Essay  on  Dramatic  Poetry  was  the  earliest  statement  of 
his  critical  system.  Its  general  spirit  is  that  of  servile  con- 
formity to  popular  opinion ;  but  its  reasoning,  albeit  from 
false  premises,  is  cogent.  The  style  of  his  prose  writing  was 
admirable;  his  English  was  lively,  vigorous,  idiomatic, 
equally  removed  from  mannerism  and  from  carelessness. 

Interesting  discussions  of  Dryden's  life  and  works  may  be  fonnd  in  Johnson's 
Lives  of  the  Poets,  Macaulay's  Essays,  Wilson's  Essays  (BlackwoocTs  Magazine,  Vol. 
LVIL),  Reed's  British  Poets,  Vol.  I.,  Hazlitt's  Works,  Tol.  IV.,  Part  II.,  Sec.  IV., 
Hallam's  Literature  of  Europe,  VoL  IV.,  North  American  Review,  July,  1868, 
Taine's  English  Litei-atun. 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

THE  CORRUPT  DRAMA. 

"TTTHEN  Dryden  wrote  for  the  stage,  he  degraded  his  talents,  as 
*  *  we  have  seen,  to  the  service  of  an  immoral  public.  That 
same  corrupt  society  debauched  a  company  of  brilliant  men, 
younger  than  Dryden,  who  devoted  themselves  exclusively  to 
dramatic  composition.  In  aim  and  in  manner  they  are  so  unlike 
the  great  playwrights  of  the  preceding  century  that  they  are  often 
spoken  of  as  the  authors  of  "  The  New  Drama."  The  aim  of 
Shakespeare  and  his  comrades  had  been  to  portray  nature  and 
natural  passion.  Recognizing  the  fact  that  nature  is  infinitely 
complex,  they  had  introduced  comic  scenes  and  characters  into 
their  tragedies,  as  they  admitted  elevated  feeling  and  language 
into  their  comedies.  In  the  new  drama  that  followed  the  Restora- 
tion, an  exaggerated,  bombastic  tragedy,  on  the  one  hand,  was  coun- 
terbalanced, on  the  other,  by  the  comedy  of  artificial  life.  Material 
was  drawn,  not  from  nature,  but  from  society.  Declamation  and 
pompous  tirades  displaced  the  old  dialogue — a  dialogue  so  varied, 
so  natural,  touching  every  key  of  human  feeling.  Wit  usurped  the 
province  of  humor;  and  the  comic  dramatists  delineated,  not  char- 
acter, but  manners.  They  were  apt  in  reflecting  the  spirit  of  their 
age ;  but  they  had  no  deep  philosophic  insight  into  human  nature. 
Their  works  are  a  splendid  revelation  of  the  powers  of  the  English 
language ;  yet  few  among  them  are  capable  of  awakening  a  thrill 
of  genuine  sympathetic  feeling.  They  do  not  deal  with  the  springs 
of  human  passion  and  action ;  moreover  there  is  an  ingrained 
profligacy  about  them ;  and  so,  while  they  lack  the  one  quality 
that  would  make  them  attractive,  they  display  the  spirit  that 
makes  them  repulsive  to  the  modern  taste. 

The  works  of  Dryden  may  be  regarded  as  the  link  connecting 
the  older  drama  with  the  new. 


180  WILLIAM     WYCHERLEY. 

William  Wycherley  (1640-1715)  was  the  first  of  the  comic 
dramatists  who  reproduced  to  the  fullest  extent  the  peculiar 
influences  of  his  day.  He  received  his  education  in  the  house- 
hold of  a  French  noble,  and  returned  to  England  to  become 
a  brilliant  figure  in  the  society  of  London.  His  first  comedy,  Love 
in  a  Wood,  was  acted  when  he  was  thirty-two  years  old.  Tlie  Gen- 
tleman  Dancing-Master,  The  Country  Wife,  and  The  Plain  Dealer 
followed  at  irregular  intervals,  the  last  one  appearing  in  1677  ;  and 
these  four  plays  are  the  only  results  of  his  dramatic  work.  He  soon 
after  lost  the  favor  of  the  Court  through  an  unfortunate  marriage, 
and  the  remainder  of  his  life  was  melancholy  and  ignoble.  At  the 
age  of  sixty-five  he  made  a  vain  attempt  to  regain  public  admira- 
tion by  means  of  a  collection  of  poetical  miscellanies ;  but  being 
stained  with  all  the  immorality  of  his  youthful  productions,  and 
redeemed  by  none  of  their  intellectual  brilliancy,  the  book  fell  dead 
upon  the  market. 

The  small  number  of  Wycherley's  dramatic  works,  as  well  as 
the  style  of  their  composition,  indicates  that  he  was  neither  very 
original  in  conception,  nor  capable  of  producing  anything,  save  by 
patient  labor  and  careful  revision.  The  leading  ideas  of  his  two 
best  comedies  are  derived  from  Moliere.  But  Wycherley,  infected 
with  the  corruption  of  his  age,  modified  the  data  of  the  great 
French  dramatist,  and  so  changed  what  was  pure  as  to  outrage 
moral  sensibility.  Setting  aside  this  ingrained  fault,  Wycherley's 
plots  and  characters  reveal  much  ingenuity  and  humorous  power. 
His  plays  are  admirably  adapted  for  representation.  Frequent 
sudden  transitions  of'  the  intrigue  fascinate  the  attention  without 
fatiguing  it,  and  give  rise  to  striking  "  situations,"  which  are 
always  treated  with  masterly  comic  effect.  The  dialogue  is  easy, 
vivacious,  amusing,  and  its  touches  of  witty  satire  are  frequent. 
The  Country  Wife  is  generally  pronounced  to  be  the  best  of  his 
comedies. 

In  the  esteem  of  his  contemporaries  William  Oongreve 
(1669*-1729)  stood  pre-eminent  among  the  comic  dramatists.  He 
Lad  the  tastes  of  the  man  of  fashion,  with  the  talents  of  the  man  of 
letters ;  and  liis  education  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  gave  him 

*  The  Inscription  on  his  monument  says  that  he  was  bom  in  1672. 


WILLIAM     CONGREYE.  181 

scholarship  far  superior  to  that  of  his  rivals.  Going  to  London 
to  study  law,  his  graces  soon  made  him  a  favorite  in  fash- 
iouable  circles.  Between  1692  and  1700  he  devoted  the  intervals 
of  social  dissipation  to  dramatic  writing,  and  produced  five  plays, — 
The  Old  Bachelor  (1693),  The  Double  Dealer  (1694),  Love  for  Lone 
(1695),  The  Mourning  Bride  (1697),  and  The  Way  of  the  World 
(1700).  They  were  all  received  with  favor  by  the  public  and  by 
the  critics.  The  brilliancy  of  the  young  author's  talents  won  for 
him  rich  patronage.  After  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century 
he  published  only  a  volume  of  trifling  miscellanies  ;  but  his  repu- 
tation and  prosperity  continued  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Successive 
ministers  of  the  government  vied  with  each  other  in  granting  him 
lucrative  sinecures.  He  accumulated  a  large  fortune,  and  com- 
manded the  society  of  wealth  and  of  intellect.  Dryden  named  him 
his  successor  in  poetical  supremacy,  and  Pope,  in  dedicating  a 
translation  of  Homer,  passed  by  powerful  and  illustrious  patrons 
to  recognize  Congreve  as  the  patriarch  of  letters.  When  he  died,  in 
1729,  he  was  honored  with  almost  a  national  funeral. 

Congreve's  scenes  are  one  incessant  flash  and  sparkle  of  the 
finest  repartee ;  and  his  wit,  like  all  wit  of  the  highest  order,  is 
invariably  allied  with  shrewd  sense  and  acute  observation.  He 
stands  alone  in  his  power  of  divesting  this  intellectual  sword-play 
of  every  shade  of  formality.  The  conversations  of  his  characters 
are  accurate  imitations  of  the  conversation  of  fashionable  life.  This 
combination  of  exquisite  naturalness  and  intellectual  vivacity  gives 
his  style  a  charm  attained  by  no  other  writer.  His  unvarying 
brilliancy  involves  certain  corresponding  faults.  He  falls  into  the 
error  of  making  his  fools  and  coxcombs  as  witty  as  their  betters. 
His  characters  are  without  exception  artificial — modeled  on  the 
plan  of  the  men  and  women  of  society.  Not  one  of  his  scenes  is 
relieved  by  a  breath  of  nature  ;  indeed  we  have  little  intimation 
that  he  knew  aught  of  either  nature  or  simplicity.  Love  for  Love  is 
Congreve's  masterpiece.  Its  characters  are  strikingly  varied,  and 
they  relieve  each  other  with  unrelaxing  spirit.  Its  intrigue,  too, 
is  effectively  managed,  and  is  better  than  that  of  any  of  his  other 
comedies.  His  one  tragedy,  The  Mourning  Bride,  written  in  solemn 
and  pompous  strain,  though  rapturously  applauded  when  first 
given  to  the  public,  has  now  no  power  of  pleasing.  Its  scenes  of 
distress  cannot  touch  the  heart ;  its  lofty  tirades  cannot  stir  the 


182  VAtfBRUGH,     FARQUHAR. 

passions.     What  enchantment  it  has  for  the  modern  reader  is  found 
in  the  power  and  melody  of  its  descriptive  passages. 

Another  popular  author  of  this  school  was  Sir  John  Vanbrugh 
(Van  broo)  (1666-1726),  a  famous  architect.  His  dramatic  talent 
is  exhibited  in  five  comedies, — The  Relapse.  The  Provoked  Wife, 
JEwp,  The  Confederacy,  and  The  Provoked  Husband.  The  first  was 
acted  in  1697;  the  last  was  left  incomplete  at  the  author's  death. 
His  fund  of  invention  enables  him  to  surpass  either  Wycherley  or 
Congreve  in  developing  a  character  or  an  incident  to  its  full 
capacity  for  comic  effect.  His  personages  have  an  incurable  habit 
of  getting  into  difficulties,  and  inexhaustible  ingenuity  in  getting 
out.  All  are  sketched  from  life — swaggering  fops,  booby  squires, 
pert  chambermaids,  and  intriguing  dames — and  sketched  with  such 
vivacity  as  would  make  amends  for  any  fault,  save  that  of  pervading 
coarseness  and  obscenity.  The  reader  finds  himself  in  bad  com- 
pany ;  for  all  the  men  are  rascals,  and  none  of  the  women  are  as 
good  as  they  should  be. 

The  comic  drama  of  this  generation  found  its  last  expression  in 
the  works  of  George  Farquhar  (1678-1708).  He  was  an  Irishman, 
who  was  dismissed  from  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  at  the  age  of 
eighteen,  on  account  of  some  boyish  irregularities.  He  then 
pursued  the  calling  of  an  actor ;  but  having  accidentally  inflicted  a 
dangerous  wound  upon  a  comrade  on  the  stage,  he  quitted  his 
profession  and  entered  the  army.  He  soon  entered  the  lists  as  a. 
dramatist,  and  wrote  his  comedies  in  rapid  succession.  His  literary 
career  was  crowded  into  ten  years, — from  1698,  when  his  first  play 
was  acted,  until  1708,  the  date  of  his  early  death.  His  principal 
plays  are,  Love  and  a  Bottle,  The  Constant  Couple,  The  Inconstant 
The  Twin  Eitals,  The  Recruiting  Officer  and  The  Beautfs  Stratagem. 
His  heroes  are  in  sympathy  with  himself,— happy,  hot-blooded, 
rattling  fellows,  whose  madcap  pranks  are  prompted  by  the  rash- 
ness of  youth.  They  are  much  given  to  deceptions  and  wanton 
tricks,  but  betray  none  of  the  vicious  coarseness  of  Wycherley's 
villains,  nor  any  of  the  refined  rascality  of  Vanbrugh's  sharpers. 
The  Beaux1*  Stratagem  was  the  last  of  his  comedies,  and  is  also 
considered  the  best.  It  is  an  entertaining  and  ingenious  portrayal 
of  the  adventures  of  two  gentlemen  who  went  into  the  country 


JEEEMT     COLLIER.  183 

disguised  as  master  and  servant.  Whole  scenes  are  filled  with  a 
rich  humor  which  recalls  the  spirit  of  the  older  drama.  In  several 
of  the  other  plays  there  are  passages  worked  up  into  brilliant 
comic  effect. 

"  The  one  feature  which  above  all  others  forces  itself  upon  our 
notice  in  every  work  of  the  whole  school,  is  the  absolute  shaine- 
lessness  of  every  person  portrayed,  male  or  female.  Not  one  of 
their  leading  characters  is  represented  with  the  slightest  conception 
that  the  grossest  vices  are  things  to  be  concealed ;  chastity  is 
derided  by  the  ladies  as  unblushingly  as  by  the  gentlemen,  and 
vice  is  not  only  rampant  but  triumphant."  * 

Such  glaring  shamelessness  did  not  go  on  unrebuked.  A  sturdy 
clergyman,  Jeremy  Collier  (1650-1726),  faced  the  scorn  of  play- 
goers, and  presented  himself  as  the  champion  of  decency.  He 
published  A  Short  View  of  the  Profaneri£s*  and  Immorality  of  the 
English  Stage,  in  which  he  defiantly  attacked  Wycherley,  Congreve 
and  Dryden.  The  pamphlet  was  written  with  fiery  energy  and  with 
wit,  and  rallied  the  sympathies  of  all  moral  and  thoughtful  men  in 
the  nation.  Dryden  himself  sincerely  and  gracefully  acknowledged 
the  justice  of  Collier's  strictures.!  A  defence  was  undertaken  by 
Wycherley,  Congreve  and  Vanbrugh  ;  but  the  assault  had  been  so 
vigorous,  and  was  pushed  with  such  resoluteness,  that  victory 
remained  with  the  assailant.  The  controversy  resulted  in  giving  a 
better  tone  to  the  drama  and  to  lighter  literature  in  general,  and 
from  that  time  there  has  been  a  gradual  improvement  which  has 
given  to  the  readers  of  English  the  purest  modern  literature. 
Collier  was  the  author  of  An  Ecclesiastical  History  of  Great  Britain, 
and  an  industrious  writer  in  various  lines  of  thought ;  but  as  his 
grandest  triumph  was  won  in  his  battle  with  the  corrupt  dramatists, 
we  have  placed  his  name  in  connection  with  theirs. 

Among  the  exclusively  tragic  dramatists  of  this  epoch  the  first 

*  C.  D.  Yon:*e. 

t  "  I  shall  say  less  of  Mr.  Collier,  because  in  many  things  he  has  taxed  me  justly ; 
and  I  have  pleaded  guilty  to  all  thoughts  and  expressions  of  mine  which  can  be 
truly  argued  of  obscenity,  profaneness  or  immorality,  and  retract  them.  If  he  be 
my  enemy,  let  him  triumph;  if  he  be  my  friend,  as  I  have  given  him  no  personal 
Occasion  to  be  otherwise,  he  will  be  glad  of  my  repentance."— Dryden,— Preface  to 
Fables. 


184  OTWAY,     LEE,     KOWE. 

place  belongs  to  Thomas  Otway  (1651-1685),  who  died  at  the  early 
age  of  thirty-four,  after  a  life  of  wretchedness  and  irregularity.  He 
received  a  regular  education  at  Oxford,  but  very  early  embraced 
the  profession  of  the  actor.  During  this  part  of  his  career  he 
produced  three  tragedies, — Alcibiades,  Don  Carlos,  and  Titus  and 
Berenice.  After  a  brief  service  in  the  army  he  returned  to  the 
stage ;  and  in  the  years  extending  from  1680  to  his  death  he  wrote 
four  more  tragedies, —  Gains  Marcius,  The  Orphan,  The  Soldier's 
Fortune,  and  Venice  Preserved.  These  works,  with  the  exception 
of  The  Orphan  and  Venice  Preserved,  are  now  nearly  forgotten ;  but 
the  glory  of  Otway  is  so  firmly  established  upon  these  two  plays, 
that  it  will  probably  endure  as  long  as  the  language  itself.  As  a 
tragic  dramatist,  his  most  striking  merit  is  his  pathos ;  and  he 
possesses  in  a  high  degree  the  power  of  uniting  pathetic  emotion 
with  the  expression  of  the  darker  passions.  The  distress  in  his 
poems  reaches  a  pitch  of  terrible  intensity.  His  style  is  vigorous 
and  racy.  In  reading  his  best  passages  we  may  continually  notice 
a  flavor  of  Ford,  Beaumont  and  other  masters  of  the  Elizabethan 
era. 

Nathaniel  Lee  (1657  ?-1692),  in  spite  of  protracted  attacks  of 
insanity,  was  able  to  acquire  a  high  reputation  for  dramatic  genius. 
In  all  his  plays  there  is  a  wild  and  exaggerated  imagery,  sometimes 
reminding  the  reader  of  Marlowe.  He  assisted  Dryden  in  the 
composition  of  several  of  his  pieces,  and  wrote  eleven  original 
tragedies. 

The  career  of  Nicholas  Rowe  (1674-1718),  like  that  of  Congreve, 
furnishes  a  happy  contrast  to  the  wretched  lives  of  many  dra- 
matists who  were  by  no  means  his  inferiors  in  talent.  He  was  an 
admired  member  of  the  fashionable  society  of  his  day,  and  belonged 
to  Pope's  circle  of  wits  and  scholars.  Secured  against  want  by  the 
possession  of  an  independent  fortune,  he  was  also  splendidly 
rewarded  for  his  literary  work,  and  enjoyed  many  lucrative  offices. 
Rowe  was  the  first  who  undertook  the  critical  editing  of  Shake- 
speare ;  and  to  this  work  he  owes  his  celebrity  as  a  literary  man. 
His  own  dramatic  works  comprise  seven  tragedies,  of  which  Jane 
Shore,  The  Fair  Penitent  and  Lady  Jane  Grey  are  the  most  note- 
worthy. 

9 

From  the  time  of  Dryden  until  the  end  of  the  first  quarter  of 


POETRY     AFTER     DRYDEX.  185 

the  eighteenth  century,  English  poetry  exhibits  a  character  equally 
remote  from  the  splendid  imagery  of  the  Elizabethan  era,  and 
from  the  picturesque  intensity  of  the  modern  school.  Correctness 
and  an  affected  regard  for  what  "was  called  "  sense "  were  the 
qualities  chiefly  cultivated.  The  abuse  of  ingenuity  which  dis- 
figures the  poetry  of  Cowley,  Donne  and  Quarles  was  avoided; 
but  there  was  likewise  a  want  of  feeling.  It  is  remarkable  how 
many  of  the  non-dramatic  poets  of  this  time  were  men  of  rank  and 
fashion,  whose  literary  efforts  were  simply  the  accomplishments 
of  amateurs. 

Consult  Macaulay's  Essay  on  The  Comic  Dramatists  of  the  Restoration,  The 
Zframatic  Works  of  Wycherley,  Congreve,  Vanbrugh  and  Farquhar,  fidited  by  Leigh 
Hunt,  Hallam's  Literature  of  Europe,  Vol.  IV.,  Hazlitt's  Lecture*  on  the  English 
Comic  Writers,  Lect.  IV. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

THE   PHILOSOPHERS  AND  THEOLOGIANS  OF  LOCKE'S  TIME 

JOHN  LOCKE. 

"The  most  elegant  of  prose  writers."— IT.  S.  Landor. 

"  All  his  contemporaries,  and,  what  is  better,  all  the  known  actions  of  his  life, 
testify  that  no  one  was  more  sincerely  and  constantly  attached  to  truth,  virtue,  and 
the  cause  of  human  liberty."—  Victor  Cousin. 

"He  gave  the  first  example  in  the  English  language  of  writing  on  abstract 
subjects  with  a  remarkable  degree  of  simplicity  and  perspicuity." — Thomas  Reid. 

"  We  who  find  some  things  to  censure  in  Locke,  have  perhaps  learned  how  to 
censnre  them  from  himself;  we  have  thrown  off  so  many  false  notions  and  films 
of  prejudice  by  his  help  that  we  are  become  capable  of  judging  our  master."— 
Henry  Hidlam. 

"  If  Bacon  first  discovered  the  rules  by  which  knowledge  is  improved,  Locke  ha* 

most  contributed  to  make  mankind  at  large  observe  them His  writings 

have  diffused  throughout  the  civilized  world  the  love  of  civil  liberty ;  the  spirit 
of  toleration  and  charity  in  religious  differences  :  the  disposition  to  reject  whatever 
is  obscure,  fantastic,  or  hypothetical  in  speculation ;  to  reduce  verbal  disputes  to 
their  proper  value ;  to  abandon  problems  which  admit  of  no  solution  ;  to  distrust 
whatever  cannot  be  clearly  expressed ;  to  render  theory  the  simple  expression 
of  facts  ;  and  to  prefer  those  studies  which  most  directly  contribute  to  human  hap- 
piness."— Sir  James  Mackintosh. 

"  Few  among  the  great  names  in  philosophy  have  met  with  a  harder  measure 
of  justice  from  the  present  generation  than  Locke,  the  unquestioned  founder  of  the 
analytical  philosophy  of  mind." — John  Stuart  Mill. 

rr^HE  English  Revolution  of  1C88  secured  constitutional  free- 
-*-  clom  for  the  state,  and  gave  a  powerful  impulse  to  practical 
progress  in  science  and  philosophy.  The  period  displays  the 
names  of  Newton  and  Locke,  the  former  famous  in  physical,  the 
other  in  intellectual  science. 

The  history  of  John  Locke  (1633-1704)  epitomizes  the  most 
revolutionary  influences  of  the  English  Age  of  Revolution.  When 
the  battle  of  Edgehill  announced  the  final  rapture  between  King 


JOHN"     LOCKE.  187 

and  Parliament,  Locke  was  ten  years  old.  As  the  son  of  an  officer 
in  the  Puritan  army,  he  was  reared  in  the  Puritan  atmosphere  of 
political  independence  and  devout  enthusiasm.  A  tendency  to 
metaphysical  speculation  seems  native  to  the  followers  of  Cal- 
vinistic  theology;  and,  doubtless,  the  natural  bent  of  Locke's 
mind  was  encouraged  by  his  early  associations.  "When  he  entered 
Oxford,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  he  had  already  developed  a  taste 
for  psychological  study,  and  a  habit  of  independent  thinking. 
Independent  thinking  was  not  encouraged  in  a  university  which 
"piqued  itself  on  being  behind  the  spirit  of  the  age."  Locke 
soon  discovered  Oxford  to  be  the  citadel  of  the  outworn  scholas- 
ticism of  the  Middle  Ages.  He  became  filled  with  disgust  at  the 
empty  subtleties  which  sheltered  themselves  under  the  name  of 
Aristotle.  In  after  years  he  frequently  regretted  that  his  early 
manhood  had  been  passed  under  such  adverse  influences.  How- 
ever, there  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  necessity  of  standing  in 
constant  antagonism  to  the  conservative  spirit  of  the  university 
training  was  powerful  in  forming  his  intellectual  character.  Dur- 
ing the  thirteen  years  which  he  spent  at  Oxford — first  as  bachelor, 
then  as  master — much  of  his  time  was  devoted  to  preparation  for 
the  practice  of  medicine.  He  thus  came  into  contact  with  the 
vigorous  and  progressive  spirit  which  was  transfusing  physical 
science.  Meanwhile  his  interest  in  metaphysics  was  stimulated  by 
attentive  and  independent  study  of  Bacon  and  Descartes,  and  by 
familiar  discussions  with  his  friends.  Locke  possessed  fine  conver- 
sational powers ;  and  his  associates  were  chosen  from  among  the 
brilliant  and  entertaining  rather  than  from  among  the  studious  and 
profound.  In  its  bearing  upon  the  circumstances  of  his  later  life, 
and  the  tendency  of  his  works,  this  fact  is  worthy  of  note.  It 
indicates  his  remarkable  union  of  the  talents  of  the  student  with 
such  tastes  and  practical  abilities  as  make  the  man  of  the  world. 

In  1664  Locke  assumed  the  secretaryship  of  a  diplomatic  mis- 
sion, and  remained  on  the  Continent  for  a  year.  After  his  return  to 
Oxford,  he  was  for  a  time  in  doubt  whether  to  continue  in  diplo- 
matic service,  or  to  begin  the  practice  of  medicine.  The  latter 
alternative  seemed  inexpedient  on  account  of  his  delicate  health. 
Conscientious  motives  prompted  him  also  to  reject  a  flattering  offer 
of  preferment  in  the  Irish  Church.  At  this  juncture,  a  chance 
acquaintance  with  Lord  Ashley,  afterwards  Earl  of  Shaftesbury, 


188  JOHN     LOCKE. 

determined  his  career.  He  recommended  himself  to  this  nobleman 
by  a  fortunate  exercise  of  his  medical  skill,  and  confirmed  his 
regard  by  charms  of  character  and  of  conversation.  Shaftesbury's 
own  social  qualities  were  of  the  most  attractive  order.  Under  the 
influence  of  mutual  admiration  and  intellectual  sympathy,  a  warm 
and  enduring  friendship  arose  between  the  two.  Locke  took  up 
his  residence  in  Shaftesbury's  house,  conducted  the  education,  first 
of  his  son  and  afterwards  of  his  grandson,  and  to  a  great  degree 
became  identified  with  his  political  fortunes.  Enjoying  the  friend- 
ship and  familiar  converse  of  the  talented  statesmen  who  sur- 
rounded his  patron,  his  attention  was  naturally  directed  to  theories 
of  politics  and  government.  He  filled  various  offices  during  Shaftes- 
bury's  two  seasons  of  political  ascendency,  and  in  1679  assisted 
him  and  others  in  framing  the  constitution  of  the  province  of 
Carolina.  When,  in  1682,  Shaftesbury  fled  to  Holland  under  the 
accusation  of  high  treason,  Locke  shared  his  exile  and  his  disgrace. 
His  intimate  connection  with  the  fallen  minister  made  him  obnox- 
ious to  the  English  government ;  and  the  bigoted  loyalty  of  Oxford 
punished  his  championship  of  liberal  principles  by  depriving  him 
of  his  Christ  Church  studentship  and  by  denouncing  him  as  a 
dangerous  heresiarch  in  philosophy.  He  bore  his  misfortunes  with 
true  philosophical  fortitude,  and  chose  to  remain  in  Holland  during 
the  reign  of  James  II.  In  the  congenial  society  of  many  distinguished 
men  who,  like  him,  were  exiles  for  conscience's  sake,  he  devoted 
himself  with  renewed  zest  to  philosophical  study.  His  Letter  on 
Toleration  and  an  abstract  of  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding 
were  both  published  before  his  return  to  England,  in  1689. 

Under  the  rule  of  William  and  Mary,  Locke's  public  career  was 
active  and  useful.  He  was  made  a  commissioner  of  appeals  ;  and 
as  a  member  of  the  Council  of  Trade  rendered  important  assistance 
in  the  reformation  of  the  coinage.  In  1690,  the  full  edition  of  his 
Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding  attracted  general  attention 
(161).  In  fourteen  years  it  passed  through  six  editions — an 
unprecedented  sale,  considering  the  times  and  the  character  of  the 
work.  In  1700  Locke's  failing  health  compelled  him  to  resign  his 
official  duties.  He  found  a  tranquil  retreat  in  the  home  of  his 
friend,  Sir  Francis  Masham.  The  last  years  of  his  life  were  devoted 
to  Scriptural  study  and  devout  contemplation,  and  in  1704  he  died, 
at  the  ripe  age  of  seventy-two. 


JOHN     LOCKE.  189 

In  order  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  the  power  of  Locke's  mind 
and  of  the  extent  of  his  influence,  it  is  necessary  to  consider  the 
age  of  which  he  was  a  part.  He  has  been  called  the  most  illus- 
trious of  Bacon's  apostles.  The  praise  is  not  misplaced.  Writing 
at  a  time  when  the  Baconian  method  of  investigation  had  half 
revolutionized  physical  science,  he  was  the  first  to  bring  the 
philosophy  of  mind  within  range  of  the  same  improvement. 
Hobbes  had  already  proclaimed  psychology  to  be  a  science  of 
observation,  but  he  had  been  too  intent  on  establishing  such  of  its 
laws  as  might  support  his  political  views  to  make  a  comprehensive 
study  of  the  whole.  It  was  reserved  for  Locke  to  demonstrate  the 
utility  of  the  method  of  observation  and  experiment.  Like  his 
great  master,  Bacon,  he  sought  fruit;  his  most  abstract  study 
evinced  his  union  of  the  philosopher  with  the  business  man.  In 
his  great  work,  the  Essay  on  the  Human  Understanding,  he  proposes 
to  give  a  rational  and  clear  account  of  the  nature  of  the  human 
mind,  of  the  real  character  of  human  ideas,  of  the  source  whence 
they  are  derived,  and  of  the  manner  in  which  they  are  presented 
to  the  consciousness.  With  unwearied  patience  he  travels 
over  the  immense  field  of  the  mental  phenomena,  describing, 
analyzing,  classifying,  with  a  practical  sagacity  which  is  equalled 
only  by  the  purity  of  his  desire  for  truth.  His  work  is,  as  Mr. 
Hallam  justly  observes,  "  the  first  real  chart  of  the  coasts,  wherein 
some  may  be  laid  down  incorrectly,  but  the  general  relations  of  all 
are  perceived."  The  obligation  under  which  he  has  placed  suc- 
ceeding thinkers  can  scarcely  be  over-estimated.  When  we  censure 
his  superficial  investigations  and  his  narrow  views,  we  forget  that 
he  was  the  pioneer  of  a  new  path.  We  complain  of  his  language 
as  careless  and  unphilosophical.  The  style  of  his  expression  was 
determined  by  the  object  of  his  writing.  He  hated  the  empty  and 
illusive  jargon  of  the  schools ;  he  tried  to  bring  abstract  knowl- 
edge within  the  range  of  the  popular  comprehension.  The  Essay  was 
the  first  English  work  which  attracted  general  attention  to  meta- 
physical speculation.  When  public  curiosity  was  stimulated  by 
the  attacks  which  were  made  upon  its  liberal  views,  the  public 
read  it,  understood  it,  thought  about  it.  Now  that  the  inquiry 
which  it  provoked  has  produced  such  grand  results,  it  is  of  no 
Blight  significance  that  a  great  modern  philosopher  calls  it  "  the 
richest  contribution  of  well-observed  and  well-described  facts 


190  JOHX     LOCKE. 

which  was  ever  bequeathed  by  a  single  individual,  and  the  indis- 
putable, though  not  always  acknowledged,  source  of  some  of  the 
most  refined  conclusions  with  respect  to  the  intellectual  phenomena 
which  have  been  since  brought  to  light  by  succeeding  inquirers." 

From  the  causes  which  we  have  already  noted,  Locke  was  less 
exposed  than  most  thinkers  to  the  dangers  of  visionary  speculation. 
On  the  other  hand,  he  frequently  wrote  upon  subjects  of  intense 
personal  interest  to  himself  and  his  nation,  and  deserves  credit  for 
his  freedom  from  passion  and  party  prejudice.  Witness  the  calm 
and  impartial  tone  of  his  Letter  on  Toleration,  composed  while  he 
himself  was  under  the  ban  of  his  university  and  his  government. 
The  same  qualities  characterize  his  Treatise  on  Civil  Government. 
This  work  inaugurated  a  new  state  of  political  sentiment  in  Europe. 
Undertaken  in  order  to  justify  the  principles  of  the  English  Revo- 
lution, it  vindicates  the  justice  of  popular  sovereignty.  Locke's 
views  are  not  always  the  most  profound,  nor  his  arguments  always 
unimpeachable.  He  wrote  from  and  for  the  victorious  party  in  a 
contest  which  had  attracted  the  interest  of  the  civilized  world. 
This  doubtless  increased  the  temporary  effect  of  his  reasoning. 
Nevertheless  he  did  what  no  writer  had  done  before  him,  and 
argued  comprehensively  from  facts  to  principles.  Like  the  Essay, 
the  value  of  the  Treatise  is  now  in  great  measure  superseded  by 
the  investigation  which  it  provoked.  In  a  practical  way,  the 
Essay  on  Education  has  been  hardly  less  influential  than  the  two 
preceding  works.  Locke  himself  had  felt  all  the  disadvantages  of 
the  prevailing  method  of  instruction.  He  makes  an  impressive 
plea  for  a  more  liberal  and  practical  system,  both  in  the  choice  of 
the  subject-matter  to  be  taught,  and  in  the  mode  of  conveying 
instruction.  Taken  as  a  whole,  his  work  is  a  monument  of  good 
sense  and  sincere  benevolence.  It  did  much  to  bring  about  that 
beneficial  revolution  which  the  last  century  has  effected  in  the 
training  of  the  young.  Besides  these  works,  there  may  be  men- 
tioned a  treatise  On  the  Reasonableness  of  Christianity,  pervaded  by 
a  spirit  of  calm  piety  which  decisively  contradicts  the  statements  of 
those  bigots  who  have  accused  Locke  of  irreligious  and  material- 
istic tendencies.  After  his  death  a  small,  but  admirable  little  work 
was  published,  entitled,  On  tlie  Conduct  of  the  Understanding.  It 
is  a  manual  of  reflections  upon  those  natural  defects  and  evil 
habits  of  the  mind  which  unfit  it  for  the  task  of  acquiring  knowl- 


ISAAC      B  A  II  R  0  W  .  191 

edge,  and  was  designed  to  form  a  supplementary  chapter  to  his 
greater  work.* 


At  the  head  of  the  theologians  stands  Isaac  Barrow  (1630-1677). 
Barrow  was  a  man  of  universal  and  profound  attainments.  At  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  his  studies  took  a  wide  range.  He  began 
his  preparation  for  the  Church  before  the  establishment  of  the 
Commonwealth.  After  the  ascendency  of  Puritan  principles 
seemed  to  have  destroyed  his  prospects  of  preferment,  he  trans- 
ferred his  attention  to  medicine  and  the  natural  sciences.  Even 
after  his  return  to  theological  studies,  he  devoted  much  time  to  the 
classics  and  mathematics.  In  both  he  attained  distinguished  pro- 
ficiency. At  the  age  of  twenty-nine  he  was  made  professor  of  Greek 
in  the  University  ;  and  with  this  appointment  he  soon  combined 
the  professorship  of  Geometry  in  Gresham  College.  In  1663  he 
resigned  both  chairs,  to  accept  the  Lucasian  professorship  of 
mathematics.  In  this  position,  which  he  filled  with  ability  for  six 
years,  he  fostered  and  befriended  the  rising  genius  of  Newton,  and 
it  was  to  Newton  that  he  resigned  his  office  in  1669.  His  Latin 
treatises  on  Optics,  Mechanics,  and  Astronomy,  establish  his  rank 
among  the  best  mathematicians  of  his  age.  Indeed,  it  is  Barrow's 
misfortune  that  his  scientific  reputation  is  eclipsed  by  the  superior 
splendor  of  his  great  successor.  Had  he  not  lived  in  Newton's 
time,  and  pursued  nearly  the  same  branches  of  investigation,  he 
would  have  held  a  proud  place  among  English  scientists. 

Previous  to  resigning  his  professorship,  Barrow  had  taken  holy 
orders,  and  had  resolved  to  devote  himself  to  theological  pursuits. 
A  brilliant  and  useful  career  opened  at  once  before  him.  He  was 
made  one  of  the  King's  chaplains  ;  his  sermons  soon  became 
famous  (162).  In  1672  he  was  elected  Master  of  Trinity  College, 
the  King  remarking,  as  he  confirmed  the  appointment,  that  he  had 
given  the  place  to  the  best  scholar  in  England.  In  1675  the  list 
of  his  honors  was  augmented  by  the  Vice-Chancellorship  of  the 
University  of  Cambridge  ;  but  he  did  not  long  survive  this  last 
distinction.  His  death  occurred  at  the  early  age  of  forty-six,  in 
the  splendid  maturity  of  his  activity  and  his  talents. 

*  For  further  discussions  of  this  topic  consult  Lewes's  History  qf  Philosophy,  voL 
II,  and  Sir  James  Mackintosh  in  the  British  Essayist*. 


192  ISAAC     BARROW. 

Contemporaneous  accounts  state  that  Barrow's  appearance  in 
the  pulpit  was  far  from  imposing,  and  that  the  beginning  of  his 
discourses  was  always  hampered  by  diffidence  and  embarrassment. 
They  add,  however,  that  when  his  enthusiasm  was  fairly  awakened 
by  his  subject,  the  magneti3  influence  of  his  oratory  was  irresistible. 
The  dignity  and  grandeur  of  his  sermons  have  rarely  been  equalled. 
They  are  tilled  and  crowded  with  powerful  and  cogent  thought ; 
the  most  appreciative  intellect  needs  to  concentrate  its  full  force 
upon  the  movement  of  their  vigorous  and  comprehensive  reason- 
ing. Every  sentence  bears  the  stamp  of  the  unconscious  and 
superabundant  power  of  $  mind  which  found  no  subtlety  too 
arduous,  no  deduction  too  obscure.  Barrow  attacks  and  van- 
quishes the  most  ponderous  difficulties  of  Protestant  theology  with 
heroic  ease.  Many  of  his  best  sermons  form  series,  devoted  to  the 
exhaustive  explanation  of  particular  departments  of  religious  doc- 
trine. For  instance,  one  excellent  series  discusses  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  which  is  anatomized,  clause  by  clause.  Another,  consisting 
of  eight  discourses,  treats  of  the  government  of  the  tongue ;  another, 
of  the  Decalogue;  another,  of  the  Sacraments.  Each  and  all  of 
these  voluminous  productions — for  Barrow's  sermons  are  seldom 
less  than  an  hour  and  a  half  long — is  instinct  with  fervent  and 
devout  purpose.  The  ideas  are  expanded  with  such  mathematical 
breadth  and  exactness,  that  the  expression  sometimes  becomes 
.involved  and  laborious.  But  there  is  no  empty  writing  ;  the  lan- 
guage is  always  filled  with  thought.  He  is  said  to  have  been 
scrupulously  attentive  to  the  composition  of  his  sermons,  and  to 
have  subjected  many  to  a  third  and  fourth  revision.  His  style  is 
always  pure,  and  nervous,  and  sometimes  vivacious ;  occasionally 
single  passages  attain  a  rich  conciseness.  He  writes  almost  without 
imagery  or  illustration.  The  teeming  fancy  which  made  Jeremy 
Taylor's  discourses  such  marvels  of  poetical  beauty  was  in  him 
displaced  by  the  intense  activity  of  reason.  There  is,  perhaps, 
no  other  writer  of  English  prose  whose  works  would  be  more 
invigorating  to  the  mind  or  better  adapted  to  the  formation  of  a 
pure  taste.  Nor  can  there  be  a  better  proof  that  the  most  capable 
critics  have  agreed  in  this  opinion,  than  the  fact  that  Chatham 
recommended  Barrow  to  his  son  as  the  finest  model  of  eloquence, 
and  that  the  accomplished  Landor  has  not  hesitated  to  place  him 
above  the  greatest  of  the  anciert  thinkers. 


TILLOTSOJs*,    SOUTH.  193 

John  Tillotson  (1630-1094),  though  his  mental  calibre  was  far 
inferior  to  that  of  Barrow,  stands  next  him  among  the  pulpit- 
orators  of  the  time.  While  studying  at  Cambridge  he  made  himself 
conspicuous  by  his  decided  Puritan  sympathies ;  but  in  later  life  his 
views  gradually  assimilated  themselves  to  those  of  the  Anglican 
Church.  He  finally  took  holy  orders,  and  in  the  reign  of  William 
and  Mary  rose  to  the  dignity  of  Archbishop  of  Canterbury.  The 
change  of  party  seems  to  have  wrought  no  effect  upon  him  beyond 
an  increase  of  candor  and  of  indulgence  for  all  shades  of  sincere 
opinion.  His  character  was  easy,  good  natured  and  amiable ;  he 
exhibited  much  honest  zeal  in  correcting  the  abuses  which  had 
crept  into  the  Church,  and  was  a  notable  instance  of  liberal  charity 
and  episcopal  virtue.  He  was  renowned  as  a  preacher;  although 
his  sermons  fall  far  short  of  Barrow's  in  mental  power  and  orig- 
inality, they  are  quite  as  well  adapted  to  command  popularity. 
Good  sense  and  earnestness  are  their  most  laudable  characteristics ; 
their  piety  is  sincere  without  being  very  elevated,  and  their  style  is 
easy,  perspicuous,  and  unaffected  (163).  Languor  and  tediousness 
sometimes  mar  their  excellence  of  expression  ;  the  sentences  are  often 
singularly  unmusical ;  and  the  evident  effort  to  maintain  a  colloquial 
tone  frequently  introduces  trivial  images  and  illustrations.  But 
Tillotson's  sermons  long  preserved  a  wide  reputation,  not  only  as 
examples  of  practical  piety,  but  as  admirable  specimens  of  compo- 
sition. Dryden  did  not  hesitate  to  own  that  his  own  prose  style 
was  formed  after  Tillotson's.  "  If  I  have  any  talent  for  English," 
he  said,  "  it  is  owing  to  my  having  ofteu  read  the  writings  of  the 
Archbishop  Tillotson." 

Robert  South  (1633-1716),  reputed  the  wittiest  churchman  of 
his  time,  was  also  the  most  bigoted  of  those  clergymen  who  upheld 
the  peculiar  principles  of  the  Stuart  dynasty.  He  was  an  apostate 
from  the  Puritan  party.  Oxford  had  imbued  him  with  the  doc- 
trines of  passive  obedience  and  the  divine  right  of  kings ;  and  his 
resolute  maintenance  of  these  opinions  combined  with  the  qualities 
of  his  pulpit  oratory  to  secure  him  great  popularity  during  the 
reigns  of  Charles  II.  and  James  II. 

By  the  animation  of  his  manner,  and  by  an  amiable  conformity 
to  the  prevailing  sentiment  of  polite  society,  he  charmed  his 
courtly  audiences.  His  sermons  are  easy  and  colloquial  in  tone, 
frequently  enlivened  by  witty  passages  and  pleasant  anecdotes. 


194  SIR     ISAAC     NEWTON. 

The  judgment  of  our  day  detects  his  lack  of  devout  sincerity,  and 
condemns  his  fulsome  homage  to  the  royal  power  no  less  than  his 
intolerant  denunciation  of  liberal  principles.  But  it  must  be 
admitted  that  he  is  a  master  of  racy,  idiomatic  English  (164).  He 
has  surpassed  his  greater  and  worthier  contemporaries  in  his 
admirable  blending  of  ease  and  harmony  of  expression  with  mas- 
culine vigor  of  thought. 

There  are  few  episodes  in  the  history  of  human  knowledge 
more  surprising  than  the  sudden  and  dazzling  progress  made  in 
the  physical  sciences  towards  the  end  of  the  seventeenth  century. 
This  progress  is  visible  in  Germany,  in  Holland,  and  in  France ; 
but  in  none  of  these  countries  more  than  in  England.  It  was  just 
and  natural  that  the  vivifying  eifect  produced  by  the  writings  and 
by  the  method  of  Bacon  should  be  peculiarly  powerful  in  that 
country  which  gave  birth  to  the  great  reformer  of  philosophy. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  development  of  free  institutions  and 
open  discussion  exercised  a  powerful  influence  in  facilitating 
research,  in  promoting  a  spirit  of  inquiry,  and  in  rendering  possi- 
ble the  open  expression  of  opinion.  The  renowned  Royal  Society* 
played  a  prominent  part  in  the  great  movement,  especially  in  the 
branches  of  physics  and  natural  history. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  (1642-1727)  was  bom  at  Woolsthorpe,  in 
Lincolnshire.  From  his  earliest  boyhood  he  showed  taste  and 
aptitude  for  mechanical  invention ;  and  entering  the  University 
of  Cambridge  in  1660,  he  made  such  rapid  progress  in  mathe- 
matical studies  that  in  nine  years  Barrow  resigned  in  his  favor 
the  Lucasian  professorship.  The  greater  part  of  Newton's  life 
was  passed  within  the  quiet  walls  of  Trinity  College.  It  was 
there  that  he  elaborated  those  admirable  discoveries  and  demon- 
strations in  Mechanics,  Astronomy,  and  Optics,  which  have  placed 
his  name  iu  the  very  foremost  rank  of  the -benefactors  of  mankind. 
He  sat  in  more  than  one  parliament  as  member  for  his  university  ; 
but  he  appears  to  have  been  of  too  reserved  and  retiring  a  charac- 
ter to  take  an  active  part  in  political  discussion.  He  was  appointed 
Master  of  the  Mint  in  1695,  and  promptly  abandoned  those  sublime 
researches  in  which  he  stands  almost  alone  among  mankind,  devot- 
ing all  his  energy  and  attention  to  the  public  duties  that  had  been 

*  This  society  originated  In  the  meetings  of  a  few  learned  men  at  each  other's 
houses'.  It  waa  incorporated  in  1662,  by  Charles  II. 


THE    SO-CALLED 

METAPHYSICAL  POETS. 


RELIGIOUS  WRITERS 

OF   THE    • 

Civil  War  and  the  Commonwealth. 


'  John  Donne, 
Edmund  Waller, 
Abraham  Cowley, 
Sir  William  Davenant, 
Sir  John  Denham, 
George  Wither, 
Francis  Quarles, 
George  Herbert, 
.  Richard  Crashaw. 

[William  Chillingwortb, 
I  Sir  Thomas  Browne, 
1  Thomas  Fuller, 
[  Jeremy  Taylor. 


JOHN    MILTON. 


THE 

LITERATURE  of  the  RESTORATION. 


Samuel  Butler, 

John  Eunyan, 

Izaak  Walton, 

John  Evelyn, 

Samuel  Pepys, 

Edward  Hyde,  Earl  of  Clarendon, 

Thomas  Hobbes. 


JOHN   DRYDEN. 


THE  CORRUPT  DRAMA. 


PHILOSOPHERS  and  THEOLOGIANS 
OP  LOCKE'S  TIME. 


William  Wycherley, 
William  Congreve, 
Sir  John  Vanbrugh, 
George  Farquhar, 
[Jeremy  Collier], 
Nathaniel  Lee, 
Nicholas  Howe. 

'  John  Locke, 
Isaac  Barrow, 
John  Tillotson, 
Robert  South, 
Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Robert  Boyle, 
Thomas  Burnet, 

.  [Gilbert  BurnetJ. 


SIR     ISAAC     STEWTOtf.  195 

committed  to  his  charge.  In  1703  he  was  made  president  of  the 
Royal  Society,  and  knighted  two  years  afterwards  by  Queen  Anne. 
He  died  in  1727.  His  character,  whose  only  defect  seems  to  have 
been  a  somewhat  cold  and  suspicious  temper,  was  the  type  of  those 
virtues  which  should  distinguish  the  scholar,  the  philosopher,  and 
the  patriot.  His  modesty  was  as  great  as  his  genius ;  and  he  invaria- 
bly ascribed  the  attainment  of  his  discoveries  to  patient  attention 
rather  than  to  any  unusual  capacity  of  intellect.  His  English 
writings  are  chiefly  discourses  upon  the  prophecies  and  chronology 
of  the  Scriptures.  They  are  composed  in  a  manly,  plain,  and  un- 
affected style,  breathe  an  intense  spirit  of  piety,  and  indicate  that  his 
opinions  inclined  towards  the  Unitarian  theology.  His  glory,  how- 
ever, rests  upon  his  purely  scientific  works,  the  Philosophic  Naturalis 
Principia  Mathematica ;  and  the  invaluable  treatise  on  Optics,  of 
which  latter  science  he  may  be  said  to  have  first  laid  the  founda- 
tion (169). 

"  No  Englishman  of  the  seventeenth  century,  after  Lord  Bacon, 
raised  himself  to  so  high  a  reputation  in  experimental  philosophy  as 
Robert  Boyle  (1627-1691)  ;  it  has  even  been  remarked  that  he  was 
born  in  the  year  of  Bacon's  death,  as  the  person  destined  by  Nature 
to  succeed  him.  .  .  .  His  works  occupy  six  large  volumes  in 
quarto.  They  may  be  divided  into  theological  or  metaphysical, 
and  physical  or  experimental.  The  metaphysical  treatises  of 
Boyle,  or  rather  those  concerning  Natural  Theology,  are  very 
perspicuous,  very  free  from  system,  and  such  as  bespeak  an 
independent  lover  of  truth."  His  discussions  of  physics  contain 
views  that  were  new  then,  but  now  are  commonly  held ;  he  dis- 
covered the  law  concerning  the  elasticity  of  the  air,  and  was  the 
first  to  note  that  the  science  of  chemistry  pertains  to  the  atomic 
constituents  of  bodies. 

One  of  the  most  extraordinary  writen^  of  this  period  was 
Thomas  Burnet  (1635-1715),  Master  of  the  Charter-house,  author 
of  the  eloquent  and  poetic  declamation,  The  Sacred  Theory  of  tlie 
Earth,  a  work  written  in  both  Latin  and  English,  and  giving  a 
hypothetical  account  of  the  causes  which  produced  the  various 
irregularities  and  undulations  in  the  Earth's  surface.  His  geo- 
logical and  physical  theories  are  fantastic  in  the  extreme ;  but 
his  pictures  of  the  devastation  caused  by  the  unbridled  powers 
of  Nature  are  grand  and  magnificent,  and  give  him  a  claim 


19G  GILBERT     BURNET. 

to  be  placed   among   the   most   eloquent  and   poetical    of  prose- 
writers. 

This  writer  must  not  be  confounded  -with  GILBERT  BURNET 
(1643-1715),  a  Scotchman,  who  was  one  of  the  most  active  poli- 
ticians and  divines  during  the  latter  part  of  the  seventeenth  century 
(16§).  He  fceld  a  middle  place  between  the  extreme  Episcopal 
and  Presbyterian  parties ;  and  though  a  man  of  ardent  and  busy 
character,  he  was  tolerant  and  candid.  He  was  celebrated  for  his 
talents  as  an  extempore  preacher,  and  was  the  author  of  a  very 
large  number  of  theological  and  political  writings.  Among  these 
his  History  of  the  Reformation  is  still  considered  as  one  of  the  most 
valuable  accounts  of  that  important  revolution.  He  also  gave  an 
account  of  the  life  and  death  of  the  witty  and  infamous  Rochester, 
whose  last  moments  he  attended  as  a  religious  adviser,  and  whom 
his  pious  arguments  recalled  to  repentance.  He  at  one  time 
enjoyed  the  favor  of  Charles  II.,  but  soon  forfeited  it,  by  the  bold- 
ness of  his  remonstrances  against  the  profligacy  of  the  King,  and 
by  his  defence  of  Lord  William  Russell.  Burnet  also  published  an 
Exposition  of  the  XXXIX.  Articles.  On  falling  into  disgrace  at 
Court  he  traveled  on  the  Continent,  and  afterwards  attached  him- 
self closely  to  the  service  of  William  of  Orange  at  the  Hague.  At 
the  Revolution,  Burnet  accompanied  the  Deliverer  on  his  expedi- 
tion to  England,  took  a  very  active  part  in  controversy  and  politi- 
cal negotiation,  and  was  raised  to  the  Bishopric  of  Salisbury.  In 
this  office  he  gave  a  noble  example  of  the  zeal,  tolerance,  and 
humanity  which  should  be  the  chief  virtues  of  a  Christian  pastor. 
He  died  in  1715,  leaving  the  MS.  of  his  most  important  work,  the 
History  of  My  Own  Times,  which  he  directed  to  be  published  after 
the  lapse  of  six  years.  This  work  is  not  inferior  in  value  to 
Clarendon's,  which  represents  the  events  of  English  history  from 
a  nearly  opposite  point  of  view.  Burnet  is  minute,  familiar,  and 
gossipy,  but  lively  and  generally  trustworthy.  No  one  who  desires 
to  make  acquaintance  with  a  very  critical  and  agitated  period  of 
English  history  can  dispense  with  the  materials  he  has  accumu- 
lated. 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

THE  ARTIFICIAL   POETS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH  CENTURY. 

n^HE  Augustan  Age,  was  the  name  given  to  the  epoch  of 
literature  immediately  succeeding  the  time  of  Drydeii. 
It  is  generally  spoken  of  as  bounded  by  the  reign  of  Queen 
Anne;  but  the  best  fruit  of  the  writers  of  her  reign 
ripened  in  the  reign  of  George  I.  The  vigor,  harmony, 
and  careless  yet -majestic  regularity  found  in  the  powerful 
writers  of  the  school  of  the  Restoration  were  given  a  yet 
higher  polish  by  the  elegant  writers  of  the  first  third  of 
the  eighteenth  century.  Three  men  stand  in  the  front 
rank;  and  these  three  men  who  make  their  generation 
famous  in  the  history  of  English  literature  were  great  as 
satirists.  They  expressed  the  critical  spirit  of  the  age. 
One  of  them  was  a  poet ;  but  his  song,  instead  of  breath- 
ing such  love  of  nature  or  of  man  as  other  songs  have, 
was  filled  with  hatreds  and  contempt;  another  was  an 
eminent  clergyman,  but  his  zeal  spent  itself  in  violating 
rather  than  in  inculcating  the  gentle  teachings  of  the 
gospel ;  the  third,  a  man  distinguished  in  the  service  of 
the  state,  was  so  genial,  so  gentle,  so  mirthful,  that  though 
he  poked  his  fun  at  all  sorts  of  English  follies,  he  did  it 
with  such  winning  words  and  with  such  charming  graces 
that  satire  lost  its  severity  and  was  redeemed  from  its 
meanness. 


ALEXANDER  POPE. 

"He  was  about  four  feet  six  inches  high,  very  humpbacked  and  deformed.  He 
wore  a  black  cent,  and,  according  to  the  fashion  of  that  tune,  had  on  a  little  sword. 
He  had  a  large  and  very  fine  eye,  and  a  long,  handsome  nose ;  his  mouth  had  those 
peculiar  marks  which  are  always  found  in  the  mouths  of  crooked  persons,  and  the 
muscles  which  run  across  the  cheek  were  so  strongly  marked  that  they  seemed  like 
small  cords."— Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

"King  Alexander  had  great  merit  as  a  writer,  and  his  title  to  the  kingdom  of  wit 
was  better  founded  than  his  enemies  have  pretended." — Henry  fielding. 

"  If  Pope  must  yield  to  other  poets  in  point  of  fertility  of  fancy,  yet  in  point 
of  propriety,  closeness,  and  elegance  of  diction  he  can  yield  to  none."— Joseph 
Warton. 

"  No  poet's  verse  ever  mounted  higher  than  that  wonderful  flight  with  which  the 
Dunciad  concludes.  In  these  astonishing  lines  Pope  reaches,  I  think,  to  the  very 
greatest  height  which  his  sublime  art  has  attained,  and  shows  himself  the  equal 
of  all  poets  of  all  times."—  W.  M.  Thackeray. 

"  At  fifteen  years  of  age  I  got  acquainted  with  Mr.  Walsh.  He  encouraged  me 
much,  and  used  to  tell  me  that  there  was  one  way  left  of  excelling ;  for  though  we 
have  several  great  poets,  we  never  had  any  one  great  poet  that  was  correct." — 
Alexander  Pope. 

"Pope's  rhymes  too  often  supply  the  defect  of  his  reasons." — Richard 
Whatdy. 

"  There  are  no  pictures  of  nature  or  of  simple  emotion  in  all  his  writings.  He 
is  the  poet  of  town  life  and  of  high  life  and  of  literary  life,  and  seems  so  much  afraid 
of  incurring  ridicule  by  the  display  of  feeling  or  unregulated  fancy  that  it  is  not 
difficult  to  believe  that  he  would  have  thought  such  ridicule  well  directed."— 
Francis  Jeffrey. 

"  The  most  striking  characteristics  of  his  poetry  are  lucid  arrangement  of  matter, 
closeness  of  argument,  marvellous  condensation  of  thought  and  expression,  bril- 
liancy of  fancy  ever  supplying  the  aptest  illustrations,  and  language  elaborately 
finished  almost  beyond  example."— Alexander  Dyce. 

"As  truly  as  Shakespeare  is  the  poet  of  man,  as  God  made  him,  dealing  with 
great  passions  and  innate  motives,  so  truly  is  Pope  the  poet  of  society,  the  delineator 
of  manners,  the  exposer  of  those  motives  which  may  be  called  acquired,  whose 
spring  is  in  institutions  and  habits  of  purely  worldly  origin." — J.  R.  Lowell. 

Alexander  Pope  (1688-1744)  stands  far  above  all 
other  poets  of  his  time.  He  was  born  in  London  and  was 
of  a  respectable  Catholic  family.  His  father  was  a  mer- 
chant, who  had  acquired  sufficient  property  to  retire  from 
business  and  to  enjoy  the  leisure  of  his  rural  home  near 
Windsor.  The  boy  was  dwarfish  in  body,  and  so  deformed 


POPE.  199 

that  his  life  was  "  that  long  disease."  His  mind  was  preco- 
cious. Before  he  was  twelve  years  old  he  had  written  an 
.Ode  to  Solitude) displaying  a  thoughtfulness  far  beyond  hia 
years.  In  referring  to  his  early  literary  attempts  he  says, 

"As  yet  a  child,  and  all  unknown  to  fame, 
I  lisped  in  numbers,  for  the  numbers  came." 

During  his  childhood  he  indulged  that  taste  for  study 
and  poetical  reading  which  became  the  passion  of  his  life. 
He  had  special  admiration  for  Dryden,  and  once  obtained 
a  glance  at  the  revered  poet  as  he  was  seated  in  his  easy 
chair  at  Will's  Coffee  House.  At  sixteen  he  composed  his 
Pastorals  and  translated  portions  of  Statius.  From  this 
time  his  activity  was  unremitting;  and  an  uninterrupted 
succession  of  works,  varied  in  their  subjects  and  exquisite 
in  their  finish,  placed  him  at  the  head  of  the  poets  of 
his  age. 

He  was  a  most  singular  man  in  his  appearance ;  so  little 
that  a  high  chair  was  needed  for  him  at  the  table,  so  weak 
and  sickly  that  he  could  not  stand  unless  tied  up  in  band- 
ages, so  sensitive  to  the  cold  that  he  was  wrapped  in  flannels 
and  furs,  and  had  his  feet  encased  in  three  pairs  of  stockings. 
He  was  in  constant  need  of  the  attentions  of  a  body-servant ; 
he  could  not  dress  or  undress  himself.  His  deformity  gave 
him  the  nickname  of  "  The  Interrogation  Point."  But  this 
unfortunate  man  had  a  fine  face  and  a  famous,  glowing  eye. 
In  his  dress  he  was  fastidious,  appearing  in  a  court  suit, 
decorated  with  a  little  sword.  His  manners,  too,  were  ele- 
gant. Whether  patient  or  impatient  about  it,  he  had  to 
bear  the  constant  reminder  of  his  physical  infirmities  as  he 
looked  upon  the  stately  figures  of  men  who  were  his  com- 
panions and  his  literary  rivals.  Sollicking  Dick  Steele  was 
large  and  strong,  Addison  had  the  fatness  ascribed  to  good- 
nature, Swift  was  compelled  to  exercise  most  vigorously  in 
keeping  down  his  flesh,  Gay  and  Thomson  were  hale  ;  these 
jolly  men  could  spend  their  nights  in  choice  revelries, 


£00  POPE. 

laughing  over  the  best  of  wit  and  humor,  but  "poor  Pope  * 
had  no  stomach,  he  must  be  quiet  and  thin  and  sick. 

Pope's  culture  was  not  gained  in  the  school-room.  He 
was  permitted  to  roam  over  the  fields  of  learning  wherever 
his  fancy  might  lead  him.  The  songs  of  stately  writers  had 
most  charm  for  him,  and  so  he  studied  Spenser,  Waller  and 
Dryden..  They  were  men  who  believed  that  poetry  con- 
sisted in  elegant  expression,  rather  than  in  the  thought; 
they  had  detected  and  disclosed  the  arts  of  poetry.  They 
had  gained  more  success  than  others  in  the  very  walk  where 
Pope  must  journey,  if  he  would  listen  to  the  call  of  his 
muse,  and  he  was  true  to  the  bent  of  his  nature  in  seeking 
culture  from  them.  Pope's  father  was  a  bookseller,  who 
had  the  taste  for  literature  commonly  found  in  men  of  his 
trade.  He  fondly  watched  the  spark  of  genius  in  his  boy, 
and  gently  fanned  it  into  flcme  by  assigning  the  subjects  for 
his  song,  and  by  praising  or  censuring  when  the  little  poet 
had  done  his  singing.  This  was  the  best  culture  given  to 
that  boyhood. 

On  account  of  his  helplessness  throughout  his  life,  Pope, 
like  a  child,  was  specially  subject  to  the  influence  of  those 
who  petted  him.  His  mother,  though  ignorant,  simple- 
hearted,  and  ruled  by  her  doting  love,  influenced  him  in  all 
things,  even  in  his  literary  work.  Until  her  death  the  poet 
was  her  child,  her  "  deare."  She  could  tell  him  more  con- 
fidingly than  another  could,  how  wonderful  he  was.  As  he 
was  more  sensitive  to  ridicule  than  any  other  man  ever  was, 
he  was  also  more  fond  of  praise.  He  had  a  sickly  craving 
for  admiration ;  and  that  doting  mother,  by  satisfying  his 
craving,  helped  him.  She  nursed  the  self -appreciation  which 
cheered  him  in  his  work.  Swift,  too,  gave  him  the  praise 
he  asked.  The  Dean  of  Dublin  had  but  to  say,  "  When  you 
think  of  the  world,  give  it  one  more  lash  at  my  request," 
and  he  could  inspire  the  poet".  The  Dunciad  is  more  defi- 
ant, sharper,  more  cruel  than  it  could  have  been  had  Pope 


POPE.  201 

not  found  an  applauding  brother  in  him  who  hated  and  de- 
tested everything  and  everybody  except  the  few  whom  he 
loved.  The  wit,  the  eloquence,  the  elegance,  the  literary 
taste  and  the  political  sentiments  of  the  Viscount  Boling- 
broke  made  him  the  object  of  Pope's  admiration.  His  daz- 
zling life  blinded  Pope  to  his  faults.  An  intimate  friend- 
ship between  them  brought  the  poet  under  powerful  and 
pernicious  influences.  To  have  one's  distinguishing  weak- 
ness nourished  as  Pope's  was  by  his  mother,  to  be  loved  by 
the  sturdiest,  heartiest  and  most  terrible  hater  the  world 
has  produced,  and  to  receive  the  patronage  and  praises  of 
the  most  dashing,  the  most  attractive  and  the  most  worth- 
less public  man  of  the  time,  was  enough  to  deform  even  a 
poet's  soul. 

Before  considering  Pope's  literary  work,  we  must  remind 
ourselves  of  the  peculiar  influence  exerted  upon  him  by  his 
age.  Much  that  has  been  charged  upon  him  belongs  to  the 
time  in  which  he  wrote.  Was  he  narrow  ?  was  he  shallow  ? 
was  he  conceited  ?  The  age  was  so.  All  of  its  writers  have 
caught  its  spirit,  though  it  may  be  that  Pope  is  its  most 
striking  representative.  There  was  conceit  in  the  air.  It 
was  the  special  weakness  of  Englishmen  throughout  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  specially  in  the  earlier  part  of  it,  to 
be  satisfied  with  their  work.  The  security  of  the  govern- 
ment seemed  to  be  established,  wealth  was  accumulating, 
the  influence  of  the  nation  abroad  was  increasing,  and  the 
moral  tone  of  the  literature  was  improving.  Indeed,  there 
was  a  peculiar  complacency  toward  the  literature ;  and  there 
was  reason  in  this  complacency,  for  the  age  was  the  first  one 
using  the  press  to  an  estent  that  made  it  a  far-reaching 
power  among  the  people.  Under  these  influences,  political, 
social  and  literary,  the  English  life,  the  national  conceit,  was 
stimulated.  There  was  a  conviction  that  the  age  had  better 
sense  than  any  one  of  its  predecessors.  In  his  essay  on 
Dryden  and  Pope,  Hazlitt  calls  attention  to  the  expression 


202  POPE. 

of  this  sentiment  in  the  poetry  of  the  time,  and  shows  that 
Pope  was  subject  to  its  influence.  Even  the  rhyming  of  his 
verse  was  unconsciously  affected  by  the  watch-word,  "  sense."* 
Tlie  Essay  on  Criticism  (17O)  published  in  1711  was 
the  first  poem  that  fixed  Pope's  reputation  and  gave  him  a 
foretaste  of  the  popularity  which  he  was  to  enjoy  during 
the  remainder  of  his  life.  It  was  a  remarkable  produc- 
tion for  a  man  of  twenty  years;  yet  much  of  the  praise 
given  to  it  is  extravagant.  It  has  no  claim  to  originality. 
It  is  merely  a  collating  9f  the  principles  of  criticism  stated 
by  Horace,,  by  Shakespeare  and  other  poets  and  critics.  Still 
in  the  poem  there  are  sparkling  beauties,  and  there  is 
music  in  its  cadence  answering  to  the  severe  demands  of 

*  "As  a  proof  of  the  exclusive  attention  which  it  occupied  in  their  minds,  it  is  re- 
markable that  in  the  Essay  on  Criticism  (not  a  very  long  poem)  there  are  no  less 
than  half  a  score  of  successive  couplets  rhyming  to  the  word  sense.  Thi?  appear* 
almost  incredible  without  giving  the  instances,  and  no  less  so  when  they  arc  given-" 

"  But  of  the  two,  less  dangerous  is  the  offence 
To  tire  our  patience  than  mislead  our  sense/' 

lines  3,  4. 

"In  search  of  wit  these  lose  their  common  sense, 
And  then  turn  critics  in  their  own  defence." 

1.  28,  29. 

"Pride,  where  wit  fails,  steps  in  to  our  defence, 
And  fills  up  all  the  mighty  void  of  sense." 

1.  209, 10. 

"  Some  by  old  words  to  fame  have  made  pretence, 
Ancients  in  phrase,  mere  moderns  in  their  sense." 

1.  324,  5. 

"  "Tia  not  enough  no  harshness  gives  offence  ; 
The  sound  must  seem  an  echo  to  the  sense." 

1.  364,  5. 

"  At  every  trifle  scorn  to  take  offence ; 
That  always  shows  great  pride  or  little  sense." 

1.  386,  7. 

"  Be  silent  always,  when  you  doubt  your  sense. 
And  speak,  though  sure,  with  seeming  diffidence." 

1.  366,  7. 

"  Be  niggards  of  advice  on  no  pretense, 
For  the  worst  avarice  is  that  of  sense." 

1.  578,  9. 


POPE.  203 

poetic  art.  It  is  dainty,  but  not  insipid ;  it  has  fervor, 
without  any  sacrifice  of  dignity ;  though  lacking  originality, 
it  is  not  lacking  in  excellence  of  judgment.  Pope's  aim 
seems  to  have  been  to  produce  faultless  verse  ;  but  in  this 
poem  his  aim  was  not  certain.  Many  an  unfriendly  critic 
has  called  attention  to  his  faulty  rhymes.  Indeed  he  gave 
himself  license  to  do  what  he  would  have  ridiculed  in  an- 
other. But  whatever  its  aspect  may  be,  it  has  the  excellence 
of  concise  and  vigorous  expression  to  such  a  degree  that  it 
has  supplied  our  current  literature  with  pithy  and  beauti- 
ful quotations  in  larger  numbers  than  any  other  poem  of 
equal  length  not  written  by  Shakespeare  or  Milton. 

A  man  of  over-nice  taste  exhausts  himself  and  wearies  his 
readers  by  discussing  profound  themes.  Had  Pope  con- 
fined his  thoughts  to  the  philosophy  of  criticism,  or  to  the 
study  of  man,  his  charming  poetical  talent  had  been  un- 
discovered. The  lighter  argument,  the  fanciful  narrative, 
the  raillery  of  the  drawing-room,  display  his  sparkling  tal- 
ents. In  writing  upon  themes  of  this  nature  he  is  most 
charming.  The  Rape  of  the  Lock  ( 1 73),  sketched  in  his  early 
literary  life,  illustrates  his  pre-eminence.  It  is  the  most 
sparkling  of  his  works,  a  masterpiece,  equally  felicitous  in 
its  plan  and  in  its  execution.  Addison  pronounced  it  "  a 
delicious  little  th'-ng,"  and  later  critics  agree  in  thinking 
that  it  is  superior  to  any  other  mock-heroic  composition. 
The  correct  principles  of  such  composition  are  sustained  in 
that  poem  better  than  in  any  other.  Lord  Petre,  a  man  of 
fashion  at  the  court  of  Queen  Anne,  had  cut  a  lock  of  hair 
from  the  head  of  Arabella  Fermor,  a  beautiful  young  maid 
of  honor,  and  by  the  act  had  given  such  offence  that  a 
quarrel  had  ensued  between  the  two  families.  Pope's  poem 
was  an  attempt  to  laugh  the  quarrelers  into  good  nature. 
In  this  he  wras  not  successful,  but  he  wrote  with  such  grace 
and  pleasantry  tbat  his  fame  was  heightened.  Addison  was 
so  delighted  by  the  first  sketch  of  the  poem  that  he  strongly 


204  POPE. 

advised  Pope  to  refrain  from  attempting  any  amendment; 
but  Pope,  fortunately  for  his  glory,  added  supernatural 
characters  to  the  story,  with  exquisite  skill  adapting  sylphs 
and  gnomes  to  the  frivolous  persons  and  events  of  the  poem. 

In  1713  he  published  his  pastoral  eclogues  entitled  Wind- 
sor Forest.  Their  beauty  of  versification  and  neatness  of 
diction  do  all  they  can  to  compensate  for  the  absence  of 
that  deep  feeling  for  Nature  which  the  poetry  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century  did  not  possess.  The  plan  of  this  work  is 
principally  borrowed  from  Denham's  Cooper's  Hill  In  1715 
Pope  published  several  modernized  versions  of  Chaucer,  as 
if  he  were  desirous  in  all  things  to  imitate  his  great,  master, 
Dryden. 

At  this  time,  too,  Pope  undertook  the  laborious  enter- 
prise of  translating  into  English  verse  the  Iliad  and  the 
Odyssey.  He  was  at  first  reduced  almost  to  despair  when 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  vastness  of  his  undertaking ; 
but  with  practice  came  facility,  and  the  whole  of  the  Iliad 
was  successfully  given  to  the  world  by  the  year  1720.  The 
•work  was  published  by  subscription.  In  a  pecuniary  sense 
it  was  a  most  successful  venture ;  for  Pope  thereby  laid  the 
foundation  of  that  competence  which  he  enjoyed  with  good 
sense  and  moderation.  The  Odyssey  did  not  appear  till  five 
years  later ;  and  of  this  he  himself  translated  only  twelve 
of  the  twenty-four  books,  employing  for  the  remaining  half 
the  assistance  of  respectable  contemporary  poets.  Mechanic- 
ally this  translation  is  not  unfaithful ;  but  in  reproducing 
the  spirit  of  the  original,  the  ballad-like  version  of  Chapman 
is  far  superior.  Bentley's  criticism  is,  after  all,  the  best  and 
most  comprehensive  that  has  yet  been  made  on  this  work: 
"It  is  a  pretty  poem,  Mr.  Pope,  but  you  must  not  call  it 
Homer."  It  is  unfortunate  that  Dryden  and  Pope  had  not 
exchanged  parts  in  their  selection  of  the  two  ancient  epic 
writers  as  subjects  of  translation.  Dryden,  though  perhaps 
incapable  of  reproducing  the  wonderful  freshness  and  gran- 


POPE.  205 

cleur  of  Homer,  still  possessed  more  of  the  Homeric  quality 
of  fire  and  animation ;  while  Pope,  in  whom  consummate 
grace  and  finish  is  the  prevailing  merit,  would  have  far  more 
successfully  reproduced  the  unsurpassed  dignity,  the  chast- 
ened majesty,  of  Virgil.  In  Dryden,  a  vigorous,  careless, 
self-assured  dexterity  is  perceptible,  not  accompanied  by 
much  passion,  nor  by  much  depth  of  sentiment,  but  imposing 
from  its  conscious  ease;  in  Pope,  we  find  keener  thought, 
more  refined  acuteness,  and  fastidious  neatness  of  expression. 
Both  are  admirable  for  perfect  clearness  of  meaning ;  both 
excel  in  the  delineation  of  artificial  life,  in  the  analysis  of 
conduct;  both  are  deficient  in  appreciation  of  external 
nature  and  of  simple  humanity. 

Other  compositions  of  Pope  belonging  to  his  early  life, 
are  the  Elegy  on  an  Unfortunate  Lady,  the  Epistle  from 
Sappho  to  Phaon,  borrowed  from  the  Heroides  of  Ovid,  and 
the  Epistle  of  Eloisa  to  Abelard.  These  works,  though  some- 
what artificial,  express  a  passion  so  intense,  and  are  illustra- 
ted with  such  beautiful  imagery,  that  they  will  ever  be  con- 
sidered masterpieces.  During  this  part  of  his  life  Pope  was 
living,  with  his  father  and  mother,  at  Chiswick;  but  on  the 
death  of  his  father,  he  removed  with  his  mother  to  a  villa  he 
had  purchased  at  Twickenham,  on  a  most  beautiful  spot  on 
the  banks  of  the  Thames.  There  he  passed  the  remainder 
of  his  life,  in  easy,  if  not  in  opulent  circumstances ;  his  taste 
for  gardening,  and  his  grotto  and  quincunxes  in  which  he 
delighted,  amused  his  leisure.  He  lived  in  familiar  inter- 
course with  illustrious  statesmen,  orators,  and  men  of  letters 
of  his  day, — with  Swift,  Atterbury,  Bolingbroke,  Prior,  Gay, 
and  Arbuthnot.  In  1725  he  published  an  Edition  of  Shake- 
speare, in  six  volumes,  and  in  it  exhibited  a  deficiency  in 
that  peculiar  kind  of  knowledge  which  is  indispensable  to  the 
commentator  on  an  old  author.  This  work  was  but  too 
justly  criticised  by  Theobald  in  his  Shakespeare  Restored,  an 
offence  deeply  resented  by  the  sensitive  poet ;  and  we  shall 


20G  POPE. 

see  by-and-by  how  savagely  he  revenged  himself.  During 
the  three  years  following  he  was  engaged,  together  with 
Swift  and  Arbuthnot,  in  composing  that  famous  collection 
of  Miscellanies  to  which  each  of  the  friends  contributed. 
The  principal  project  of  the  fellow-laborers  was  the  exten- 
sive satire  of  the  abuses  of  learning  and  the  extravagances 
of  philosophy.  It  was  entitled  Memoirs  of  Martinus  Scrib- 
lerus.  Pope's  admirable  satiric  genius,  however,  seems  to 
have  deserted  him  instantly  when  he  abandoned  verse  for 
prose.  With  the  exception  of  Arbuthnot's  inimitable  bur- 
lesque History  of  John  Bull,  these  Miscellanies  are  hardly 
worthy  the  fame  of  their  authors. 

Pope's  brilliant  success,  his  steady  popularity,  the  tinge 
of  vanity  and  malignity  in  his  disposition,  and  above  all, 
the  supercilious  tone  in  which  he  speaks  of  the  struggles 
of  literary  existence,  raised  around  him  a  swarm  of  enemies, 
animated  alike  by  envy  and  revenge.  Determining,  there- 
fore, to  inflict  upon  these  gnats  and  mosquitoes  of  the 
press  a  memorable  castigation,  he  composed  the  satire  of 
the  Dunciad,  the  primary  idea  of  which  may  have  been 
suggested  by  Dryden's  MacFlecJcnoe.  It  is  incomparably 
the  fiercest,  most  sweeping,  and  most  powerful  literary  satire 
that  exists  in  the  whole  range  of  literature.  In  it  he  flays 
and  boils  and  roasts  and  dismembers  the  scribblers  whom  he 

• 

attacks.  Most  of  them  are  so  obscure  that  their  names  are 
now  rescued  from  oblivion  by  being  embalmed  in  Pope's 
satire,  like  rubbish  preserved  in  the  lava  of  a  volcano  ;  but 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  poem,  and  particularly  in  the  por- 
tion added  in  the  editions  of  1742  and  1743,  the  poet  has 
given  a  sketch  of  the  gradual  decline  and  corruption  of 
taste  and  learning  in  Europe,  which  is  one  of  the  noblest 
outbursts  of  his  genius.  The  plot  of  the  poem — the  Iliad 
of  the  Dunces — is  not  very  ingenious.  Pope  supposes  that 
the  throne  of  Dulness  is  left  vacant  by  the  death  of  Shad- 
Well,  and  that  the  various  aspirants  to  "  that  bad  eminence  " 


POPE  207 

engage  in  a  series  of  trials,  like  the  Olympic  Games  oJ:  old, 
to  determine  who  shall  inherit  it.  In  the  original  form  of 
the  poem,  as  it  appeared  in  1728  and  1729,  the  palm  of 
pedantry  and  stupidity  was  given  to  Theobald,  Pope's  suc- 
cessful rival  in  editing  Shakespeare.  In  the  new  edition  of 
1743.  published  just  before  the  poet's  death,  Theobald  was 
degraded  from  the  throne,  and  the  crown  was  given  to  the 
poet  laureate,  Colley  Gibber,  an  actor,  manager,  and  dra- 
matic author  of  the  time,  who,  whatever  were  his  vices, 
certainly  was  in  no  sense  an  appropriate  King  of  the  Dunces. 
But  in  this,  as  in  numberless  other  instances,  Pope's  bitter- 
ness of  enmity  ran  away  with  his  judgment.  The  poem  is 
an  admirable — almost  a  fearful — example  of  the  highest 
genius  applied  to  the  most  selfish  of  ends. 

In  the  four  years  extending  from  1731  to  1735,  Pope  was 
engaged  in  the  composition  of  his  Epistles,  addressed  to 
Burlington,  Cobham,  Arbuthnot,  Bathurst,  and  other  dis- 
tinguished men.  These  poems,  half  satirical  and  half 
familiar,  were  in  their  manner  a  reproduction  of  the 
charming  epistles  of  Horace. 

TJie  Essay  on  Man,  written  in  this  period  of  his  literary 
work,  was  published  in  four  epistles  addressed  to  Boling- 
broke.  The  arguments  of  the  poem  are  not  convincing, 
nor  are  the  conclusions  just.  It  furnishes  an  illustration 
of  the  incompatibility  between  the  higher  order  of  poetry 
and  abstract  reasoning ;  for  close  reasoning  is  generally 
found  to  injure  the  effect  of  verse,  and  the  ornament  of 
verse  as  generally  detracts  from  the  vigor  of  argument. 
The  first  epistle  treats  of  man  in  his  relation  to  the  universe, 
the  second  in  his  relation  to  himself,  the  third  in  his  relation 
to  society,  and  the  fourth,  with  respect  to  his  ideas  of  happi- 
ness. Throughout  the  poem  the  exquisite  neatness  and 
conciseness  of  the  language,  the  unvarying  melody  of  the 
verse,  and  the  beauty  and  fidelity  of  the  illustrations  prove 
that  if  the  poet  has  not  produced  a  perfect  model  of  didac* 


20S  POPE. 

tic  poetry,  it  is  simply  for  the  reason  that  such  an  object  ia 
beyond  the  attainment  of  man. 

Imitations  of  Horace,  in  which  he  adapted  the  topics  of 
the  Eoman  satirist  to  the  persons  and  vices  of  his  own  day, 
were  Pope's  latest  works. 

On  the  30th  of  May,  1744,  this  poet  died.  He  was 
unquestionably  the  most  illustrious  of  artificial  writers, 
hardly  inferior  to  Swift  in  the  vigor  and  the  originality  of 
his  genius.  The  last  years  of  his  life  were  very  gloomy,  for 
he  was  without  the  genial  companionships  in  which  he  had 
found  delight.  Addison  was  estranged  from  him.  Swift 
was  sunk  in  idiocy.  Atterbury  and  Gay  were  dead,  and  his 
mother  too  was  gone. 

His  quarrel  with  Addison  has  been  explained  in  various 
ways,  but  a  knowledge  of  their  characters  and  a  plain  state- 
ment of  a  few  facts  are  enough  to  show  how  impossible  it 
was  that  the  man  of  grand  self-respect  and  the  man  of 
intense  self-esteem  should  retain  each  other's  confidence. 
When  the  young  poet  began  his  literary  career,  he  paid  def- 
erence to  the  name  of  the  great  Oxford  scholar,  sought  his 
friendship,  and  won  his  favor.  "Whether  Addison  was  jealous 
of  Pope's  increasing  fame  may  be  questioned,  but  it  is  cer- 
tain that  Pope  was  resentful  towards  Addison  for  his  too 
frank  criticisms  of  the  Essay  on  Criticism  and  The  Rape 
of  the  Lock.  Their  open  unfriendliness  was  probably 
caused  by  Pope's  spiteful  assault  on  old  John  Dennis  for  his 
"Remarks  on  the  Tragedy  of  Cato."  Addison  was  sus- 
pected of  making  this  assault,  and  in  relieving  himself  of  the 
suspicion,  he  quietly  said  that,  had  he  answered  the  remarks, 
he  would  have  done  it  as  a  gentleman  should.  Pope  never 
forgave  this  rebuke.  It  was  too  severe  to  be  forgotten.  The 
attempts  of  friends,  and  even  their  own  reciprocations  of 
literary  compliments,  did  not  restore  friendly  relations.  It 
was  a  most  dignified  quarrel  on  the  part  of  Pope,  when  com- 
pared with  the  bitterness  of  his  quarrels  with  others.  The 


FOPE.  209 

victims  of  the  Dunciad,  and  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu 
knew  the  cruelty  of  "  The  Wicked  Wasp  of  Twickenham." 

As  a  man,  Pope  was  a  strange  mixture  of  selfishness  and 
generosity,  malignity  and  tolerance ;  he  was  fond  of  in- 
direct and  cunning  courses;  and  his  intense  literary  am- 
bition showed  itself  sometimes  in  meannesses  and  jealousies. 
Concerning  his  merits  as  a  poet,  the  knights  of  criticism 
have  had  many  and  spirited  encounters.  They  began  to 
quarrel  in  Pope's  day,  and  though  they  are  not  now  as  excited 
as  they  were  then,  they  are  quite  as  arrogant.  This  irre- 
pressible conflict  of  opinion  is  due  to  the  fact  that  there  are 
two  grand  divisions  of  poetry,  and  two  races  of  poets.  There 
is  the  poetry  that  is  natural,  and  the  poetry  that  is  arti- 
ficial; the  poetry  that  is  spontaneous,  bursting  into  blaze, 
giving  fire  and  energy  to  the  language  which  expresses  the 
intense  feeling  of  the  poet,  and  the  verse  in  which  the  emo- 
tions flicker  and  must  be  patiently  fanned  into  flame. 
There  is  poetry  having  the  power  and  dignity  of  passion, 
and  poetry  having  the  power  and  dignity  of  elegance.  The 
poet  of  passion  forgets  himself  in  his  frenzy,  utters  the 
feelings  that  bubble  from  his  heart,  and  is  in  agony  until 
his  feelings  are  expressed.  Poetry  is  to  him  what  harmony 
is  to  a  musical  genius,  what  color  is  to  a  great  painter,  what 
form  is  to  the  sculptor.  But  there  are  sculptors  and  paint- 
ers and  composers  who,  without  genius,  have  the  power  to 
please,  whose  work  is  less  open  to  a  criticism  of  details  than 
the  work  of  a  greater  artist.  They  may  please  by  elegant 
finish,  by  freedom  from  faults,  while  another  gives  his  ad- 
mirers intenser  pleasure  as  he  paints,  chisels,  or  utters 
bolder  and  grander  ideas  unpolished.  And  so  among  the 
poets,  there  are  those  who  please  by  accuracy  of  details  and 
those  who  charm  by  the  massive  grandeur  of  their  thoughts. 

What  end  does  poetry  serve  ?  Jeffrey,  the  keenest  of 
critics,  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  the  most  patient  thinkers 
in  the  philosophy  of  poetry,  teach  that  the  end  of  poetry  is 


210  j  o  n  x    GAT. 

to  give  pleasure.  Their  definitions  turn  against  them  when 
they  propose  to  strike  Pope's  name  from  the  list  of  poets. 
If  there  be  two  general  divisions  of  taste  among  people  of 
literary  culture,  there  must  be  two  general  classes  of  poets. 
The  array  of  critics  who  have  praised  Pope's  verse,  proves 
that  no  mean  place  can  be  assigned  him  among  our  poets. 
He  must  be  ranked  first  among  those  whose  power  of  pleas- 
ing is  found  in  their  conformity  to  the  laws  of  rhythm,  in 
the  studied  music  of  their  song.  He  must  not  be  named 
with  Chaucer,  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  for  he  has  not  sub- 
lime thoughts,  he  has  not  broad  and  profound  sympathies. 
Xature  does  not  enchant  him.  Art  in  life  and  in  literature 
commanded  his  highest  esteem,  and,  therefore,  he  struck 
the  chords  that  would  please  the  elegant  rather  than  the 
earnest.  "  He  was  the  poet-laureate  of  polite  life." 

Pope's  influence  upon  the  poetry  of  his  own  and  the  suc- 
ceeding generation  Avas  pernicious.  A  throng  of  writers, 
in  striving  to  imitate  him.  produced  verse  so  thoroughly  arti- 
ficial that  it  was  soulless  and  contemptible.  The  only  thing 
about  it  to  remind  one  of  poetry  was  its  form.  They  were 
satisfied  Avith  rhythm.  They  did  not  try  to  express  thought. 
They  forgot  the  spirit  of  poetry  in  their  devotion  to  its 
mechanical  properties.  * 

John  Gay  (1G88-1732)  was  one  of  those  easy,  amiable,  good- 
natured  men  -who  arc  the  darlings  of  their  friends,  and  whose  talents 
excite  admiration  without  jealousy,  while  their  characters  are  the 
object  of  fondness  rather  than  respect.  Pope  describes  him  as 

"  Of  manners  gentle,  of  affections  mild, 
In  wit  a  man,  simplicity  a  child." 

He  was  apprenticed  to  a  tradesman,  but,  believing  that  he  held 

*  The  student  is  referred  to  the  following  interesting  discussions  of  Pope  and  his 
poetry : 

Johnson's  Lives  of  the  Poets,— De  Quincey's  Biographical  Essays,— Reed's  Lec- 
tures on  the  British  Facts,  Lect.  IX.— Thackeray's  English  Humoriste,— Taine's 
English  Literature,— Hazlitt's  Lectures  on  the  English  Poete. 


MATTHEW     PRIOR.  211 

the  pen  of  a  poet,  he  exchanged  his  calling  for  a  thriftless  literary 
career.  Tie  was  eager  for  employment  under  the  government,  and 
succeeded  in  obtaining  a  position  which  he  was  unable  to  retain 
because  of  his  indolent  and  self-indulgent  habits.  But  he  had  the 
good  fortune  to  secure  the  patronage  of  the  Duchess  of  Monmouth, 
and  in  her  household  he  lived,  u  lapped  in  cotton,  and  had  his  plate 
of  chicken,  and  his  saucer  of  cream,  and  frisked,  and  barked,  and 
wheezed,  and  grew  fat,  and  so  ended."  *  The  Shepherds'  Week,  in 
Six  Pastorals,  written  to  ridicule  the  pastorals  of  Ambrose  Phillips, 
was  so  full  of  humor  and  of  rural  description  that  it  won  popular- 
ity as  a  serious  production.  His  next  publication,  Trivia,  or  tlie  Art 
of  Walking  in  the  Streets  of  London,  is  interesting  not  only  for  its 
easy  humor,  but  also  for  the  curious  details  it  gives  of  the  scenery, 
costume  and  manners  of  the  street  at  that  time.  Keen  political 
allusions  contributed  to  the  popularity  of  Gay's  dramatic  pieces. 
His  most  successful  venture  in  that  line  was  The  Beggars'  Opera, 
the  pioneer  of  English  operatic  works.  His  Fables  (176),  written 
in  easy  verse  and  abounding  in  good  humor,  still  retain  favor  in  col- 
lections of  poetry  for  the  young.  His  songs  and  ballads  are  among 
the  most  musical,  touching,  and  playful  found  in  our  language. 

Matthew  Prior  (1664-1721)  was  a  poet  and  diplomatist  of  thia 
time,  who  played  a  prominent  part  on  the  stage  of  politics  as  well 
as  on  that  of  literature  (177).  He  took  part  with  Charles  Montagu 
in  the  composition  of  the  Country  Mouse  and  City  Mouse,  a  poem  in- 
tended to  ridicule  Dryden's  Hind  and  Panther ;  and  as  the  senti- 
ments of  the  satire  were  approved  by  the  government,  the  door  of 
public  employment  was  soon  opened  to  him.  After  acting  as  Secre- 
tary of  Legation  at  the  Peace  of  Ryswick,  he  twice  resided  at  Ver- 
sailles in  the  capacity  of  envoy,  and  by  his  talents  in  negotiation,  as 
well  as  by  his  wit  and  accomplishments  in  society,  appears  to  have 
been  very  popular  among  the  French.  On  returning  to  England  he 
was  made  a  Commissioner  of  Trade,  and  in  1701  became  a  member 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  Though  he  had  entered  public  life  as  a 
partisan  of  the  Whigs,  he  deserted  them  for  the  Tories,  on  the 
occasion  of  the  impeachment  of  Lord  Somers.  In  1715  he  Avas 
ordered  into  custody  by  the  Whigs,  on  a  charge  of  high  treason, 
and  remained  two  years  in  confinement.  But  for  his  College  Fel- 

*  Thackeray. 


^12  EDWARD     YOUXG. 

lowship,  which  he  prudently  retained  throughout  the  period  of  his 
prosperity,  he  would  have  been  reduced  to  entire  poverty.  His 
longer  and  more  ambitious  poems  are  Alma,  a  metaphysical  discus- 
sion carried  on  in  Hudibrastic  verse,  exhibiting  a  good  deal  of 
thought  and  learning  disguised  under  an  easy  conversational  garb, 
and  the  religious  epic  entitled  Solomon,  a  poem  somewhat  in  the 
same  manner,  and  with  the  same  defects,  as  the  Davideis  of  Cowley. 
The  ballad,  Henry  and  Emma,  he  founded  on  the  ballad  of  The 
Nutbrowne  Maid,  but  his  work  has  not  the  charming  simplicity  of 
the  old  poem.  His  claim  to  poetic  fame  rests  mainly  upon  his  easy, 
animated  love-songs. 

Edward  Young  (1681-1765)  began  his  career  by  the  unsuccess- 
ful pursuit  of  fortune  in  the  public  service.  He  obtained  his  first 
literary  fame  by  a  satire  entitled  the  Love  of  Fame,  the  Universal 
Passion,  written  before  he  abandoned  a  secular  career.  When 
nearly  fifty  years  of  age,  he  abandoned  his  hopes  of  political  prefer- 
ment, and,  entering  the  service  of  the  church,  was  made  chaplain 
to  George  II.,  and  afterwards  was  appointed  to  the  living  of 
Wclwyn. 

His  place  in  the  history  of  English  literature  is  due  to  his 
striking  and  original  poem,  The  Niyht  Thoughts  (ISO).  This  work, 
consisting  of  nine  nights  of  meditations,  is  in  blank  verse,  and  is 
made  up  of  reflections  on  Life,  Death,  Immortality, — the  most 
solemn  subjects  that  can  engage  the  attention  of  the  Christian  and 
the  philosopher.  The  general  tone  of  the  work  is  sombre  and. 
gloomy,  perhaps  in  some  degree  affectedly  so ;  for  the  author 
paraded  the  melancholy  personal  circumstances  under  which  he 
wrote,  overwhelmed  by  the  rapidly  succeeding  deaths  of  many  who 
were  dear  to  him.  Still  the  reader  cannot  rid  himself  of  a  suspicion 
that  the  grief  and  desolation  were  exaggerated  for  effect.  There 
are  other  faults.  No  connection  exists  between  the  nine  parts ;  the 
expression  is  unnatural ;  there  is  lack  of  simplicity.  "  Short,  vivid, 
and  broken  gleams  of  genius"  *  are  frequently  seen.  The  inarch 
of  his  verse  is  generally  majestic,  though  it  has  little  of  the  rolling, 
thunderous  melody  of  Milton.  The  epigrammatic  nature  of  some 
of  his  most  striking  images  is  best  attested  by  the  large  number  of 
expressions  which  have  passed  from  his  writings  into  the  collo- 

*  Campbell. 


ALLAN     K  A  M  S  A  Y  .  213 

quial  language  of  society,  such  as  "  procrastination  is  the  thief  of 
lime,"  "  all  men  think  all  men  mortal  but  themselves." 

The  poetry  of  the  Scottish  Lowlands  found  an  admirable  repre- 
sentative at  this  time  in  Allan  Ramsay  (1686-1758),  who  was  born 
in  humble  life,  was  first  a  wigmaker,  and  afterwards  a  bookseller 
in  Edinburgh.  He  was  of  a  happy,  jovial,  and  contented  humor, 
and  rendered  great  services  to  the  literature  of  his  country  by  reviv- 
ing the  taste  for  the  excellent  old  Scottish  poets,  and  by  editing 
and  imitating  the  incomparable  songs  and  ballads  current  among 
the  people.  He  was  also  the  author  of  an  original  pastoral  poem, 
The  Gentle  (or  Noble)  Shepherd,  which  grew  out  of  two  eclogues 
he  had  written,  descriptive  of  the  rural  life  and  scenery  of  Scotland. 
The  complete  work  consists  of  a  series  of  dialogues  in  verse,  writ- 
ten in  the  melodious  and  picturesque  dialect  of  the  country,  aud 
woven  into  a  simple  but  interesting  love-story. 


CHAPTER     XIX. 

PROSE    WRITERS    OF    THE    FIRST    HALF    OF  THE    EIGHTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

JOSEPH   ADDISON. 

"  Give  days  and  nights,  sir,  to  the  study  of  Addison,  if  yon  mean  to  be  a  good 
writer,  or,  what  is  more  worth,  an  honest  man." — Samuel  Johnson. 

"Addison  was  the  best  company  in  the  world."— Lady  Jfary  Montagu. 

"  He  w'as  not  free  with  his  superiors.  He  was  rather  m\ite  in  his  society  on  some 
occasions ;  but  when  he  began  to  be  company  he  was  full  of  vivacity,  and  went  on 
in  a  noble  stream  of  thought  and  language,  so  as  to  chain  the  attention  of  every  one 
to  him."—  Edward  Young. 

"The  great  satirist  who  alone  knew  how  to  use  ridicule  without  abusing  it, 
who  without  inflicting  a  wound  effected  a  great  social  reform,  and  who  reconciled 
wit  and  virtue  after  a  long  and  disastrous  separation,  during  which  wit  had  been 
led  astray  by  profligacy, and  virtue  by  fanaticism.'' — T.  B.  Macaulay. 

rTIHE  writers  of  prose  who  were  contemporaneous  with 
~L  Pope,  developed  a  new  form  of  English  literature, 
which  has  exerted  a  powerful  and  beneficial  influence  on 
the  manners  and  culture  of  English  readers.  In  the  form 
of  a  periodical,  a  scanty  supply  of  news  was  published,  to- 
gether with  a  short,  lively  essay  on  some  moral  or  critical 
theme.  The  aim  of  the  formal  dissertations  Avas  to  incul- 
cate principles  of  virtue,  good  taste  and  politeness. 

The  most  illustrious  writer  in  this  department  of  litera- 
ture was  Joseph  Addison  (1G72-1719).  This  great 
writer  and  excellent  man  was  the  son  of  Lancelot  Addison, 
a  clergyman  of  some  reputation  for  learning.  In  his  early 
years  he  was  sent  to  the  Charter-house,  a  famous  school  in 
London,  and  there  he  began  his  friendship  for  "  Dick  " 


A  I)  I)  IS  OX.  215 

Steele.  At  fifteen  years  of  age  he  entered  Queen's  College, 
and  two  years  later  secured  a  scholarship  at  Magdalen  Col- 
lege, where  he  distinguished  himself  by  the  style  of  his 
scholarship,  and  by  his  taste  in  Latin  poetry. 

His  first  attempt  in  English  verse  (1694)  was  an 
Address  to  Dryden,  by  which  the  old  poet's  friendship  was 
won.  A  eulogistic  poem  on  William  III.  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  Court,  and  gained  for  the  young  author 
a  pension  of  three  hundred  pounds.  He  at  once  began 
travel  in  France  and  Italy,  that  he  might  cultivate  his 
tastes;  but  he  was  soon  deprived  of  his  pension  by  the 
death  of  King  William.  He  returned  to  London,  where  he 
lived  in  poverty,  maintaining  that  dignified  patience  and 
quiet  reserve  which  made  his  character  so  estimable.  While 
Addison  was  living  in  obscurity,  Marlborough  won  the 
memorable  victory  of  Blenheim.  The  Lord  Treasurer, 
Godolphin,  eager  to  see  the  event  celebrated  in  some  worthy 
manner,  was  reminded  of  the  young  poet.  The  courtier 
sought  for  him,  found  him  in  his  uncomfortable  lodgings 
in  Haymarket,  and  applied  to  him  to  sing  the  glory  of  the 
English  hero.  The  poem  known  as  TJie  Campaign  was  the 
result  Tbe  verses  are  stiff  and  artificial  enough  ;  but  Addi- 
son, abandoning  the  absurd  custom  of  former  poets,  who 
paint  a  military  hero  as  slaughtering  whole  squadrons  with 
his  single  arm,  places  the  glory  of  a  great  general  on  its 
true  basis — the  power  of  conceiving  and  executing  profound 
intellectual  combinations,  and  calmness  and  imperturbable 
foresight  in  the  hour  of  danger.  The  praises  of  Marlborough 
were  none  too  lofty  for  the  popular  demand  ;  the  toAvn  went 
wild  over  one  passage,  in  which  the  hero  was  compared  to 
an  angel  guiding  a  whirlwind.* 

*  "  So  when  an  angel  by  divine  command, 
With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land 
(Such  as  of  late  o'er  pale  Britannia  passed), 
Calm  and  serene  he  drives  the  furious  blast ; 
And,  pleased  the  Almighty's  orders  to  perform, 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind  and  directs  the  storm." 


216  ADDISOX     AND     STEELE. 

From  the  writing  of  that  successful  poem,  the  career  of 
Addison  was  brilliant  and  prosperous.  He  was  appointed 
\Jnder-Secretary  of  State,  and  afterwards  Chief  Secretary 
for  Ireland.  Besides  these  high  posts  he  held  other  lucra- 
tive and  honorable  offices.  The  publication  of  the  Cam- 
paign had  been  followed  by  that  of  his  Travels  in  Italy, 
exhibiting  proofs  not  only  of  his  graceful  scholarship,  but 
also  of  his  delicate  humor,  his  benevolent  morality,  and  his 
deep  religious  spirit.  In  1707  he  gave  to  the  world  his 
pleasing  and  graceful  opera  of  Rosamond ;  and  about  this 
time  he  in  all  probability  sketched  the  comedy  of  The 
Drummer. 

Although  Addison  entered  upon  his  literary  career  as  a 
poet,  he  won  his  highest  fame  by  writing  prose  for  the  first 
English  periodicals. 

A  short  account  of  Steele  and  of  the  early  periodical 
literature  may  be  appropriately  given  at  this  point.  Sir 
Richard  Steele  (1675-1729)  was  of  Irish  parentage.  He 
had  been  the  schoolfellow  of  Addison,  upon  whom,  both  at 
the  Charter-house  and  afterwards  during  a  short  stay  at 
Oxford,  he  seems  to  have  looked  with  veneration  and  love. 
His  life  was  full  of  the  wildest  vicissitudes,  and  his  character 
was  one  of  those  which  it  is  equally  impossible  to  hate  or  to 
respect.  His  heart  was  inordinately  tender,  his  benevolence 
deep,  his  aspirations  lofty ;  but  his  passions  were  strong,  and 
his  life  was  passed  in  sinning  and  repenting,  in  getting  into 
scrapes  and  making  projects  of  reformation.  He  utterly 
lacked  prudence  and  self-control.  Passionately  fond  of 
pleasure,  and  always  ready  to  sacrifice  his  own  interest  for  the 
whim  of  the  moment,  he  caused  himself  to  be  disinherited  by 
enlisting  as  a  private  in  the  Horse-Guards  ;  and  when  after- 
wards promoted  to  a  commission,  he  astonished  the  town  by 
his  wild  extravagance,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  wrote  a 
moral  and  religious  treatise  entitled  The  Christian  Hero, 
breathing  in  it  the  loftiest  sentiments  of  piety  and  virtue. 


ADDIS  OX     AHD     STEELE.  217 

He  was  a  man  of  ready  though  not  solid  talents ;  and  being 
an  ardent  partisan  pamphleteer,  was  rewarded  by  Govern- 
ment with  the  place  of  Gazetteer.  This  position  gave  him 
a  monopoly  of  official  news  at  a  time  when  newspapers 
were  still  in  their  infancy.  He  determined  to  profit  by  the 
facilities  afforded  him,  and  to  found  a  new  species  of  peri- 
odical which  should  contain  the  news  of  the  day  and  a 
series  of  light  and  agreeable  essays  upon  topics  of  universal 
interest,  likely  to  improve  the  taste,  the  manners,  and 
morals  of  society.  It  should  be  remarked  that  this  was  a 
period  when  literary  taste  was  at  its  lowest  ebb  among  the 
middle  and  fashionable  classes  of  England.  The  amuse- 
ments, when  not  merely  frivolous,  were  either  immoral  or 
brutal.  Gambling,  even  among  women,  was  frightfully 
prevalent.  The  sports  of  the  men  were  marked  with  cruelty 
and  drunkenness.  In  such  a  state  of  things,  intellectual 
pleasures  and  acquirements  were  regarded  either  with  wonder 
or  with  contempt.  The  fops  and  fine  ladies  actually  prided 
themselves  on  their  ignorance  of  spelling,  and  any  allusion  to 
books  was  scouted  as  pedantry.  Such  was  the  disease  which 
Steele  desired  to  cure.  He  determined  to  treat  it,  not  with 
formal  doses  of  moral  declamation,  but  with  homoeopathic 
quantities  of  good  sense,  good  taste,  and  pleasing  morality, 
disguised  under  an  easy  and  fashionable  style.  The  Tatler 
was  a  small  sheet  appearing  three  times  a  week,  at  the  cost 
of  Id,  each  number  containing  a  short  essay,  generally 
extending  to  about  two  octavo  pages,  and  the  rest  filled 
up  with  news  and  advertisements.  The  popularity  of  the 
new  journal  was  instant  and  immense;  no  tea-table,  no 
coffee-house — in  that  age  of  coffee-houses — was  without  it ; 
and  the  authors,  writing  with  ease,  pleasantry,  and  knowledge 
of  life, — writing  as  men  of  the  world,  and  as  men  about  town, 
rather  than  as  literary  recluses,  soon  gained  the  attention 
of  the  people  whom  they  addressed.  The  Tatler  was  pub- 
lished for  nearly  two  years, — from  April  12th,  1709,  till 


218  ADDIS  OX     AND     STEEL  E. 

January  2d,  1711.  By  that  time  Steele  had  lost  his  position 
as  Gazetteer.  His  success  in  writing  under  the  nom  deplume 
of  Isaac  Bickerstaffe,  prompted  him  to  continue  his  addresses 
to  the  public.  He  soon  established  the  famous  Spec- 
1711]  tator.  This  was  like  the  Tatter,  with  the  difference 
that  it  appeared  six  times  a  week.  After  reaching 
five  hundred  and  fifty-five  numbers,  it  was  discontinued  for 
about  eighteen  months,  resuming  its  work  in  1714.  The 
Guardian,  inferior  to  either  of  the  other  periodicals,  though 
having  Addison  and  Steele  for  contributors,  was  begun  in 
1712,  and  continued  for  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
numbers.  Steele,  though  he  was  master  of  a  ready  and 
pleasant  pen,  was  compelled  to  obtain  as  much  assistance  as 
he  could  from  his  friends.  Many  writers  of  the  time,  among 
them  Swift  and  Berkeley,  furnished  hints  or  contributions. 

But  we  must  return  to  Addison.  His  constant  and 
powerful  aid  was  freely  given  to  Steele.  He  entered  warmly 
into  the  project,  making  the  most  valuable  as  well  as  the 
most  numerous  contributions.  For  The  Tatter  he  furnished 
one-sixth,  for  The  Spectator  more  than  one-half,  and  for 
The  Guardian  one-third  of  the  whole  quantity  of  matter. 
His  papers  are  signed  by  one  of  the  four  letters,  C.  L.  I.  0., 
either  the  letters  of  the  name  of  Clio,  or  the  initials  of  Chel- 
sea, London,  Islington  and  the  Office,  the  places  where  the 
essays  were  written. 

For  several  years  four  acts  of  an  unfinished  drama  had 
been  tossed  about  among  Addison's  papers.  During  the 
suspension  of  TJie  Spectator  he  improved  the  opportunity  oi! 
completing  the  work,  and  in  1713  brought  out  his  tragedy 
of  Cato.  It  is  cold,  solemn  and  pompous,  written  with 
scrupulous  regard  for  the  classical  unities.  The  story  is 
without  special  interest.  The  characters,  however,  are  full 
of  patriotic  and  virtuous  rhetoric.  The  play  was  a  wonder- 
ful success  on  the  stage.  Night  after  night  an  applauding 
audience  crowded  the  theatre,  whig  and  tory  finding  delight 


ADDISOtf.  219 

in  applying  the  political  sentiments  of  the  piece  to  the 
English  politics  of  his  own  day ;  but  after  a  few  weeks  the 
enthusiasm  cooled,  and  the  play  was  allowed  to  find  its  place 
in  the  library,  and  to  exchange  the  unintelligent  praises  of 
the  throng  for  the  cool  criticism  of  the  private  reader. 

Addison  won  no  distinction  as  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Commons,  or  as  a  public  officer.  His  inveterate  timidity 
prevented  him  from  speaking  with  effect.  His  powers  of 
conversation  are  said  to  have  deserted  him  when  in  the 
presence  of  more  than  two  or  three  hearers.  The  one 
blemish  in  his  life  may  be  ascribed  to  this  diffidence,  for  in 
order  to  conquer  it,  and  to  give  flow  and  vivacity  to  his  ideas, 
he  had  recourse  to  wine.  We  must  remember,  however,  that 
excessive  drinking  was  the  fashion  of  that  age  in  England, 
and  was  not  regarded  as  a  vice. 

In  1716  Addison  married  the  Countess  Dowager  of  War- 
wick, to  whose  son  he  had  been  a  tutor.  The  union  does 
not  seem  to  have  added  to  the  happiness  of  either  the  pol- 
ished scholar  or  the  dashing  lady.  He  often  would  escape 
from  the  elegance  of  Holland  House  to  spend  his  days  and 
nights  with  old  friends  in  the  clubs  and  coffee-houses. 

The  year  after  his  marriage,  Addison  reached  the  highest 
point  of  his  political  career ;  he  was  made  Secretary  of  State, 
and  in  this  eminent  position  exhibited  the  same  liberality, 
modesty,  and  genuine  public  spirit,  that  had  characterized 
his  whole  life.  Even  in  his  political  journals,  The  Freeholder 
and  The  Examiner,  he  never  departed  from  a  tone  of  candor, 
moderation,  and  good  breeding.  He  retained  his  secretary- 
ship but  a  short  time,  retiring  from  it  with  a  pension  of 
fifteen  hundred  pounds  a  year.  It  was  his  determination  to 
devote  the  evening  of  his  life  to  the  composition  of  an 
elaborate  work  on  the  evidences  of  the  Christian  religion ; 
but  his  remaining  days  were  few;  and  the  work  was  left 
incomplete.  He  died  at  the  early  age  of  forty-seven.  A 
distressing  asthma  had  afflicted  his  closing  years  and  other 


220  ADDISOX. 

trials  had  attended  him  ;  but  his  serene  and  gentle  spirit 
lost  none  of  its  patience,  nor  did  his  reverential  faith  desert 
him. 

Addison's  celebrated  quarrel  with  Pope  was  of  too  com- 
plicated a  nature  to  be  described  here ;  but  however  pain- 
ful it  may  be  to  find  the  highest  spirits  of  the  age  embit- 
tered against  each  other,  we  can  hardly  regret  that  quarrel ; 
for  we  owe  to  it  one  of  the  finest  passages  of  Pope's  works, 
the  unequalled  lines  drawing  the  character  of  Atticus,  which 
was  unquestionably  meant  for  Addison.  Of  all  the  accusa- 
tions so  brilliantly  launched  against  him,  Addison  might 
plead  guilty  to  none  save  the  very  venial  one  of  loving  to 
surround  himself  with  an  obsequious  circle  of  literary  ad- 
mirers. The  blacker  portions  of  the  portrait  are  traceable  to 
the  pure  malignity  of  the  sparkling  satirist 

The  fertility  of  invention  displayed  in  his  charming 
papers  published  in  the  Tatler,  Spectator  and  Guardian,  the 
variety  of  their  subjects,  and  the  singular  felicity  of  their 
treatment,  will  ever  place  them  among  the  masterpieces  of 
fiction  and  of  criticism.  Their  variety  is  wonderful.  Noth- 
ing is  too  high,  nothing  too  low,  to  furnish  matter  for  amus- 
ing and  yet  profitable  reflection.  From  the  patches  and 
cherry-colored  ribbons  of  the  ladies  to  the  loftiest  principles 
of  morality  and  religion,  everything  is  treated  Avith  appro- 
priateness and  unforced  energy.  He  was  long  held  up  as 
the  finest  model  of  elegant  yet  idiomatic  English  prose ;  and 
now  the  student  will  find  in  him  qualities  that  never  can 
become  obsolete — an  unfailing  clearness  and  limpidity  of 
expression,  and  a  singular  harmony  between  the  language 
and  the  thought.* 

"Addison  wrote  his  papers  as  gayly  as  if  he  were  going 
out  for  a  holiday.  When  Steele's  Tatler  first  began  his  prat- 
tle, Addison,  then  in  Ireland,  caught  at  his  friend's  notion, 

*  "  Whoever  •wishes  to  attain  an  English  style,  familiar  but  not  coarse,  and 
elegant  hut  not  ostentatious,  must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  volumes  of 
Addison."— S<<muel  Johnson. 


ADDIS  OX.  221 

poured  in  paper  after  paper,  and  contributed  the  stores  of 
his  mind,  the  sweet  fruits  of  his  reading,  the  delightful 
gleanings  of  his  daily  observation,  with  a  wonderful  profu- 
sion, and,  as  it  seemed,  an  almost  endless  fecundity.  He 
was  six  and  thirty  years  old ;  full  and  ripe.  He  had  not 
worked  crop  after  crop  from  his  brain,  manuring  hastily, 
subsoiling  indifferently,  cutting  and  sowing  and  cutting 
again,  like  other  luckless  cultivators  of  letters.  He  had  not 
done  much  as  yet;  a  few  Latin  poems — graceful  prolusions; 
a  polite  book  of  travels ;  a  dissertation  on  medals,  not  very 
deep ;  four  acts  of  a  tragedy,  a  great  classical  exercise  ;  and 
The  Campaign,  a  large  prize  poem  that  won  an  enormous 
prize.  But  with  his  friend's  discovery  of  the  Tatter,  Addi- 
son's  calling  was  found,  and  the  most  delightful  talker  in 

the  world  began  to  speak His  writings  do 

not  show  insight  into  or  reverence  for  the  love  of  Avomen, 
which  I  take  to  be,  one  the  consequence  of  the  other.  He 
walks  about  the  world  watching  their  pretty  humors,  fash- 
ions, follies,  flirtations,  rivalries,  and  noting  them  with  the 
most  charming  archness.  He  sees  them  in  public,  in  the 
theatre,  or  at  the  assembly  or  the  puppet-show;  or  at  the 
toy-shop  higgling  for  gloves  and  lace;  or  at  the  auction 
battling  together  over  a  blue  porcelain  dragon,  or  a  darling 
monster  in  Japan ;  or  at  church,  eyeing  the  width  of  their 
rivals'  hoops,  or  the  breadth  of  their  laces,  as  they  sweep 
down  the  aisles.  Or  he  looks  out  of  his  window  at  the 
Garter  in  St.  James's  street,  at  Ardelia's  coach  as  she  blazes 
to  the  drawing-room  with  her  coronet  and  six  footmen  ;  and 
remembering  that  her  father  was  a  Turkey  merchant  in  the 
City,  calculating  how  many  sponges  went  to  purchase  her 
earring,  and  how  many  drums  of  figs  to  build  her  coach- 
box; or  he  demurely  watches  behind  a  tree  in  Spring  Gar- 
den as  Saccharissa  (whom  he  knows  under  her  mask)  trips 
out  of  her  chair  to  the  alley  where  Sir  Fopling  is  waiting. 
He  sees  only  the  public  life  of  women.  Addison  was  one  of 


222  ADDISON. 

the  most  resolute  clubmen  of  his  day.  He  passed  many 
hours  daily  in  those  haunts.  Besides  drinking,  he  indulged 
in  that  odious  practice  of  smoking.  Poor  fellow ;  he  was  a 
man's  man,  remember.  The  only  woman  he  did  know  he 
did  not  write  about.  I  take  it  there  would  not  have  been 
much  humor  in  that  story."  * 

But  his  delineations  of  the  characters  of  men  are  wonder- 
fully delicate.  The  inimitable  personage  of  Sir  Eoger  de 
Coverley  is  a  perfectly  finished  picture,  worthy  of  Cervantes 
or  of  Walter  Scott.  The  manner  in  which  the  foibles  and 
the  virtues  of  the  old  squire  are  combined  is  a  proof  that 
Addison,  who  added  most  of  the  subtile  strokes  to  the  char- 
acter, possessed  humor  in  its  highest  and  most  delicate  perfec- 
tion. And  the  inimitable  sketches  of  the  squire's  dependants, 
the  chaplain,  the  butler,  and  Will  Wimble,  the  poor  relative, 
— all  these  delicate  observations  of  character  must  ever  place 
Addison  high  among  the  great  painters  of  human  nature. 
His  poetry,  though  very  popular  in  his  own  time,  has  since 
fallen  in  public  estimation  to  a  point  very  far  below  that  oc- 
cupied by  his  prose.  His  earlier  and  more  ambitious  poems, 
even  including  the  once-lauded  Campaign,  have  little  to 
distinguish  them  from  the  vast  mass  of  regular,  frigid,  irre- 
proachable composition  popular  in  that  time.  His  lighter 
lyrical  poetry,  such  as  the  songs  in  fiosamond,  are  pleasing 
and  musical.  His  Hymns  breathe  a  fervent  and  tender  spirit 
of  piety,  and  are  in  their  diction  and  versification  stamped 
with  great  beauty  and  refinement.  This  is  especially  true  of 
the  verses  beginning, 

"  When  all  thy  mercies,  O  my  God," 

and  of  the  well-known  adaptation  of  the  noble  psalm,  "The 
Heavens  declare  the  Glory  of  God." 

"When  this  man  looks  from  the  world  whose  weaknesses 
he  describes  so  benevolently,  up  to  the  Heaven  which  shines 

*  Thackeray. 


A  D  D  I  S  0  N .  223 

over  us  all.  I  can  hardly  fancy  a  human  face  lighted  up  with 
a  more  serene  rapture ;  a  human  intellect  thrilling  with  a 
purer  love  and  adoration  than  Joseph  Addison's.  Listen  to 
him :  from  your  childhood  you  have  known  the  verses;  but 
who  can  hear  their  sacred  music  without  love  and  awe  ? 

' '  Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale, 
And  nightly  to  the  listening  earth 
Repeats  the  story  of  her  birth; 
And  all  the  stars  that  round  her  burn, 
And  all  the  planets  in  their  turn, 
Confirm  the  tidings  as  they  roll, 
And  spread  the  truth  from  pole  to  pole. 
What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  this  dark  terrestrial  ball ; 
What  though  10  real  voice  nor  sound. 
Among  their  radiant  orbs  be  found ; 
In  reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice, 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine, 
The  hand  that  made  us  is  divine.1 

"  It  seems  to  me  those  verses  shine  like  the  stars.  They 
shine  out  of  a  great,  deep  calm.  When  he  turns  to  Heaven, 
a  Sabbath  comes  over  that  man's  mind ;  and  his  face  lights 
up  from  it  with  a  glory  of  thanks  and  prayer.  His  sense 
of  religion  stirs  through  his  whole  being."  * 

*  Thackeray,  t 

t  For  further  readings  on  Addison,  the  student  is  referred  to  Johnson's  Lives  qf 
the  Poets,  Macaulay's  Essay,  Thackeray's  English  Humorists. 


2M  SWIFT. 


JONATHAN    SWIFT. 


"  The  most  onhappy  man  on  earth." — Bishop  King. 

"  The  most  agreeable  companion,  the  truest  friend,  and  the  greatest  genius  of 
hie  age."— Joseph  Addison. 

"  He  moves  laughter  but  never  joins  in  it.  He  appears  in  his  works  such  as  he 
appears  in  society.  All  the  company  are  convulsed  with  merriment,  while  the  Dean, 
the  author  of  all  the  mirth,  preserves  an  invincible  gravity  and  even  sourness  of 
aspect,  and  gives  utterance  to  the  most  eccentric  and  ludicrous  fancies,  with  the  ail 
of  a  man  reading  the  corn  initiation  service."—  T.  B.  Macaulay. 

"  Swift  was  in  person  tall,  strong  and  well  made,  of  a  dark  complexion,  but 
with  blue  eyes,  black  and  bushy  eyebrows,  nose  somewhat  aquiline,  and  features 
which  well  expressed  the  etern,  haughty,  and  dauntless  turn  of  his  mind.  He  was 
never  known  to  laugh,  and  his  smiles  are  happily  characterized  by  the  well  known 
lines  of  Shakespeare, — indeed,  the  whole  description  of  Caseius  might  be  applied  to 
Swift:— 

'  He  reads  mnch ; 

He  is  a  great  observer,  and  he  looks 
Quite  through  the  deeds  of  men :    .    .    .    . 
Seldom  he  smiles,  and  smiles  in  such  a  sort, 
As  if  he  mocked  himself,  and  scorned  his  spirit 
That  could  be  mov'd  to  smile  at  anything.1 " 

—  Walter  Scott. 

"In  humor  and  in  irony,  and  in  the  talent  of  debasing  and  defiling  what  he  hated, 
we  join  with  the  world  in  thinking  the  Dean  of  St.  Patrick  without  a  rival." — 
Francis  Jeffrey. 

"Dean  Swift  maybe  placed  at  the  head  of  those  that  have  employed  a  plain 
style.  Few  writers  have  discovered  more  capacity.  He  treats  every  subject  which 
he  handles,  whether  serious  or  ludicrous,  in  a  masterly  manner.  He  knew,  almost 
beyond  any  man,  the  purity,  the  extent,  the  precision  of  the  English  language."— 
Hugh  Blair. 

Jonathan  Swift  (1667-1745),  a  most  original  genius, 
a  most  striking  character,  holds  an  eminent  place  in  the 
literary  and  political  history  of  his  time.  He  was  born  in 
Dublin ;  but  his  parents  were  English.  His  father  died  in 
poverty  before  Swift  was  born,  and  so  the  child  became 
dependent  upon  the  charity  of  relatives.  His  uncle  sent  him 
to  school  at  Kilkenny,  and  then  to  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 
There .  Swift  busied  himself  with  irregular  and  desultory 
study,  and  at  last  received  his  degree  with  the  unfavorable 
notice  that  it  was  conferred  "speciali  gratia,"  indicating  that 


SWIFT.  225 

his  conduct  had  not  satisfied  the  academical  authorities.  In 
1688  he  entered  the  household  of  Sir  William  Temple,  a 
distant  connection  of  his  family,  in  whose  service  he  re- 
mained as  secretary  for  six  years.  There  he  ate  the  bread 
of  bitterness.  His  social  position,  midway  between  that  of 
a  member  of  the  family  and  a  servant,  was  galling  to  his 
proud  spirit.  His  residence  at  Moor  Park  continued  down 
to  Temple's  death  in  1699,  with,  however,  one  interruption  in 
1694,  when  he  entered  the  Irish  church  establishment,  having 
obtained  the  small  preferment  of  Kilroot.  This  temporary 
absence  was  caused  by  a  quarrel  with  his  patron,  whose 
supercilious  condescension  Swift's  haughty  spirit  could  not 
brook.  But  the  Irish  parsonage  gave  him  more  miseiy  than 
he  had  found  in  Temple's  palace,  and  he  soon  returned  to 
humble  himself  before  the  baronet.  During  his  residence  at 
Moor  Park  he  was  industriously  employed  in  study.  Steady 
and  extensive  reading  corrected  the  defects  of  his  earlier 
education.  On  Temple's  death  he  became  the  literary 
executor  of  his  patron,  and  prepared  numerous  works  for 
the  press.  These  he  presented  to  William  III.  with  a  preface 
and  dedication  written  by  himself. 

Failing  to  obtain  any  preferment  from  that  sovereign, 
Swift  went  to  Ireland  in  1699  as  chaplain  to  Earl  Berkeley, 
the  Viceroy,  and  received  the  small  livings  of  Laracor  and 
Eathbeggan.  At  Laracor  he  lived  till  1710,  amusing  him- 
self with  gardening,  and  repairing  his  church  and  par- 
sonage. He  made  yearly  visits  to  England,  where  he  became 
the  familiar  companion  of  Halifax,  Godolphin,  Somers,  and 
Addison,  the  most  illustrious  men  of  the  time.  His  connec- 
tion with  William  III.  and  Temple,  as  well  as  the  predomi- 
nance of  Whig  policy,  naturally  caused  Swift  to  enter  public 
life  under  the  Whig  banner.  It  was  iii  the  interests  of  this 
party  that  he  wrote  his  first  work,  the  Dissensions  in  Athens 
and  Rome,  a  political  pamphlet  in  favor  of  the  Whig  minis- 
ters who  were  impeached  in  1701. 


226  SWIFT. 

But  his  first  important  works  were  The  Tale  of  a  Tub  and 
The  Battle  of  the  Books,  published  in  1704.  The  former  is  a 
savage  and  yet  exquisitely  humorous  pasquinade,  ridiculing 
the  Eonian  Catholics  and  Presbyterians,  and  exalting  the 
High  Anglican  party,  the  three  churches  being  impersonated 
in  the  ludicrous  and  not  very  decorous  adventures  of  his 
three  heroes,  Peter,  Jack,  and  Martin.*  The  Battle  of  the 
Books,  though  first  published  in  1704,  appears  to  have  been 
written  as  early  as  1697,  to  support  his  patron,  Sir  William 
Temple,  in  the  celebrated  Boyle  and  Bentley  controversy  on 
the  letters  of  Phalaris.  This  dispute  arose  out  of  the  vio- 
lently-contested question  of  the  relative  superiority  of  the 
Ancients  and  the  Moderns,  a  question  started  in  England  by 
Sir  William  Temple  in  1692.f  Swift  became  a  champion  of 

*  The  purpose  of  this  work  was  to  counteract  the  political  schemes  of  the  fol- 
lowers of  Hobbes.  The  Tale  is  that  three  brothers,  Peter  (the  Roman  Catholic 
Church),  Martin  (the  Lutherans),  and  Jack  (the  Calvinists)  received  coats  from  their 
dying;  father.  The  coats  were  to  last  them  as  long  as  they  lived,  provided  they  kept 
them  clean.  But  as  fashions  changed  the  coats  changed  with  them.  Embroidery, 
fringes  and  tinsel  conceal  the  simple  garments  bequeathed  by  the  father.  Peter 
hides  the  will  and  assumes  lordly  diguities.  Martin  and  Jack  steal  copies  of  the 
will,  and  leave  Peter's  house.  Martin  tries  to  remove  some  of  the  trappings  from 
his  coat  and  to  leave  some ;  but  Jack,  in  his  earnestness,  ripped  off  all  the  em- 
broidery and  tore  away  much  of  the  coat. 

Hallam  regards  this  as  Swift's  masterpiece.  It  was  published  anonymously ; 
and  that  is  not  strange,  for  the  book  contains  passages  to  which  no  clergyman 
could  becomingly  put  his  name. 

t  The  dispute  had  its  origin  in  France,  where  Fontenelle  and  Perrault  claimed  for 
the  moderns  a  general  superiority  over  the  writers  of  antiquity.  A.  reply  to  their 
arguments  was  published  by  Sir  William  Temple  in  1692,  in  his  Essay  on  Ancient  and 
Modern  Learning,  written  in  elegant  language,  but  containing  much  puerile  matter, 
and  exhibiting  great  credulity.  Not  content  with  pointing  out  the  undoubted 
merits  of  the  great  writers  of  antiquity,  he  undervalued  the  labors  and  discoveries 
of  the  moderns,  and  passed  over  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  Newton  without  even 
mentioning  their  names.  Among  other  arguments  for  the  decay  of  humor,  wit,  and 
learning,  Temple  maintained  "  that  the  oldest  books  extant  were  still  the  best  in 
their  kind ; "  and  in  proof  of  this  assertion  cited  the  Fables  of  ^Esop  and  the  Epis- 
tles of  Phalaris.  This  led  to  the  publication  of  a  new  edition  of  the  Epistles  of 
Phalaris  by  the  scholars  of  Christ-Church,  Oxford  (1695).  The  nominal  editor  was 
Charles  Boyle,  who.  in  his  Preface,  inserted  a  bitter  reflection  upon  RICHABD 
BENTLEY  (1662-1742),  the  King's  Librarian,  on  account  of  the  refusal  of  the  latter  to 
grant  the  loan  of  a  MS.  in  the  King's  Library.  Bentley  soon  had  an  opportunity  for 
retaliation.  He  proved  that  the  author  of  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris  was  not  the  Sici- 
lian tyrant,  but  some  eophist  of  a  later  age.  Sir  William  Temple  was  incensed  at 


SWIFT.  227 

the  Boyle  faction,  and  in  this  work  gave  a  striking  foretaste 
of  those  tremendous  powers  of  sarcasm  and  vituperation 
which  made  him  the  most  formidable  pamphleteer  that  ever 
lived.  The  merits  of  the  case  he  does  not  attempt  to  touch ; 
but  with  the  wildest  and  most  grotesque  invention,  and 
with  unscrupulous  use  of  everything  coarse  and  ludicrous 
in  language,  he  strives  to  cover  his  opponents  with  con- 
tempt. 

In  1708  Swift  was  employed  to  negotiate  with  the  English 
government  in  reference  to  the  claims  of  the  Irish  clergy. 
He  visited  England  on  this  mission,  and,  though  unsuccess- 
ful, displayed  great  activity  and  shrewdness.  He  had  by 
this  time  rendered  himself  a  prominent  person  both  in  his 
profession  and  in  politics,  he  was  known  and  feared  as  a 
powerful  and  unscrupulous  pamphleteer,  and  was  the  fa- 
miliar associate  of  those  who  were  at  the  head  of  affairs. 

Bentley's  Dissertation  ;  and  Swift,  who  then  resided  in  Temple's  house,  made  his 
first  attack  upon  Bentley  in  the  Battls  of  the  Books,  in  which  he  ridiculed  the  great 
scholar  in  the  most  ludicrous  manner.  Bentley's  attack  was  considered  an  affront 
to  Christ-Church  College  ;  and  her  scholars  resolved  to  crush,  at  once  and  forever, 
the  audacious  assailant.  The  chief  task  of  the  reply  was  undertaken  by  Atterbury, 
but  he  was  assisted  by  all  the  scholars  of  the  college.  "  In  point  of  classical  learn- 
ing," observes  the  biographer  of  Bentley,  "  the  joint-stock  of  the  confederacy  bore 
no  proportion  to  that  of  Bentley. ;  their  acquaintance  with  several  of  the  books  upon 
which  they  comment  appears  only  to  have  begun  upon  that  occasion,  and  sometimes 
they  Hi-e  indebted  for  their  knowledge  of  them  to  their  adversary ;  compared  with 
his  boundless  erudition,  their  learning  was  that  of  school-boys,  and  not  always 
sufficient  to  preserve  them  from  distressing  mistakes.  But  their  deficiency  in 
learning  they  made  up  by  wit  and  raillery ;  and  when  the  book  appeared,  in  1698,  it 
was  received  with  extravagant  applause.  It  was  entitled  Dr.  BenUey's  Dissertation 
on  the  Epistles  of  Phalaris  and  the  Fables  of  dSsop,  examined  by  the  Honorable 
Charles  Boyle,  Esq.  It  is  usually  known  by  the  familiar  title  of  Boyle  against  Bentley  ; 
though  Boyle,  whose  name  it  bears,  had  no  share  in  the  composition  of  the  work. 
It  was  generally  supposed  that  Bentley  was  silenced  and  crushed.  Conscious  of  hU 
own  learning,  he  could  afford  to  despise  the  ignorant  malice  of  his  enemies  ;  and  he 
set  himself  resolutely  to  work  to  prepare  an  'answer,  which  ehould  not  only  silence 
his  opponents,  but  establish  his  reputation  as  one  of  the  greatest  scholars  that  ever 
lived.  His  work  appeared  in  1699,  under  the  title  of  A  Dissertation  upon  the  Epis- 
tles of  Phalaris :  with  an  Answer  to  the  Objections  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  by 
Richard  Bentley,  D.  D.  ;  but  it  is  frequently  called  Bentley  against  Boyle.''''  The 
appearance  of  this  work  is  to  be  considered  an  epoch  not  only  in  the  life  of  Beutley, 
but  in  the  history  of  literature.  With  this  dissertation  the  controversy  came  to  an 
end,  for  Bentley'e  reply  was  so  complete  and  crushing  that  it  was  hopeless  to  at 
tempt  a  rejoinder. 


228  SWIFT. 

His  advocacy  of  Whig  principles,  never  very  hearty,  came 
to  an  end  in  1710.  He  had  long  regarded  Ireland  with 
contempt  and  detestation,  and  was  eager  for  a  promo- 
tion that  would  enable  him  to  reside  in  England,  near  the 
focus  of  literary  and  political  activity.  But  his  hopes  of 
preferment  were  not  fulfilled,  and,  when  his  little  patience 
was  exhausted,  he  abandoned  his  party,  and  began  to  in- 
trigue and  to  satirize  on  the  side  of  the  Tories.  In  this 
same  year,  Harley  and  Pope's  friend,  St.  John,  reached  the 
head  of  affairs.  Swift  was  received  by  them  Avith  open  arms. 
He  was  caressed  and  nattered  by  the  great,  the  fair,  the 
witty,  and  the  wise.  With  unexampled  rapidity  he  poured 
forth  squib  after  squib  and  pamphlet  after  pamphlet,  em- 
ploying all  the  stores  of  his  unequalled  fancy  and  powerful 
sophistry  to  defend  his  party  and  to  blacken  and  ridicule  his 
antagonists.  The  great  object  of  his  ambition  was  an  Eng- 
lish bishopric,  and  the  ministers  would  have  been  willing 
enough  to  gratify  him ;  but  his  authorship  of  the  Tale  of  a 
Tub,  and  a  lampoon  of  his  on  the  Duchess  of  Somerset, 
proved  fatal  to  him,  and  he  was  obliged  to  content  himself 
with  the  Deanery  of  St.  Patrick's,  Dublin.  He  entered 
upon  the  duties  of  this  office  in  1713.  This  was  the  most 
active  period  of  Swift's  life.  His  Public  Spirit  of  the  Wftiys, 
his  Conduct  of  the  Allies,  and  his  Reflections  on  the  Barrier 
Treaty,  the  ablest  political  pamphlets  ever  written,  not  only 
reconciled  the  nation  to  the  peace  policy  of  the  Tory  minis- 
try, but  also  kindled  a  feeling  of  enthusiasm  for  the  Tory 
statesmen  among  the  people.  Evil  days,  however,  were  at 
hand.  Harley  and  St.  John  tore  asunder  their  party  with 
their  dissensions,  and,  in  spite  of  all  Swift's  efforts,  the 
troubles  became  desperate.  St.  John  succeeded  in  turning 
out  Harley.  But  his  triumph  was  short.  The  death  of 
Anne  and  the  accession  of  the  Elector  of  Hanover,  recalled 
the  WTiigs  to  power.  The  ministry  were  accused  of  a  plot 
for  bringing  back  the  Pretender;  Harley  was  committed  to 


SWIFT.  229 

the  Tower ;  St.  John  fled  beyond  the  sea ;  and  Swift  retired 
to  Ireland,  where  he  was  received  with  contempt  and  exe- 
cration. 

During  his  frequent  visits  to  London,  Swift's  company 
had  always  been  sought  after  by  men  of  letters  as  well  as  by 
statesmen.  With  Pope,  Gay  and  Arbuthnot,  he  formed  what 
was  called  the  Scriblerus  Club,  a  company  united  by  the 
closest  intimacy,  where  each  threw  the  ideas  published  in 
their  famous  Miscellanies  into  a  common  stock. 

For  twelve  years  Swift  remained  in  Ireland.  He  was 
quiet,  but  thoroughly  discontented.  At  last,  in  1724,  the 
opportunity  came  for  him  to  speak  his  hatred  for  the  Eng- 
lish government,  and  he  spoke  in  such  a  way  as  to  raise 
himself  from  being  an  object  of  detestation  to  a  height  of 
popularity  such  as  no  other  English  churchman  ever  at- 
tained in  Ireland. 

/      The  condition  of  Ireland  was  just  then  unusually  deplor-\ 
/able;  the  manufacturing  industry  and  the  commerce  of  the  \ 
I  country  were  paralyzed  by  the  protective  statutes  of  the   j 
English  Parliament ;  the  agricultural  classes  were  reduced  / 
\  to  the  lowest  abyss  of  degradation.     Swift  boldly  proclaimed  j 
the  misery  of  the  country.     His  force  and  bitterness  soonj 
drew  down  the  persecution  of  the  Ministers.    But  the  high- 
est point  of  his  Irish  popularity  was  attained  by  the  seven 
famous  Drapier  Letters.    These  letters,  signed  M.  B.  Drapier, 
were  written  by  Swift  and  inserted  in  a  Dublin  newspaper. 
The  occasion  was  the  attempt,  on  the  part  of  the  English 
ministry,  to  force  the  circulation  of  a  large  sum  of  copper 
money  in  Ireland.    The  contract  for  coining  this  money  had 
been  undertaken  by  William  Wood,  a  Birmingham  specula- 
tor.    Swift  endeavored  to  persuade  the  people  that  it  was 
far  below  its  nominal  value ;   and  he  counselled  all  true 
patriots  not  only  to  refuse  to  take  it,  but  to  refrain  from 
using  any  English  manufactures  whatever.     The  force  of 
his  arguments,  and  the  skill  with  which  he  wore  the  mask 


230  SWIFT. 

of  a  plain,  honest  tradesman,  excited  the  populace  almost 
to  frenzy.  Swift  was  known  to  be  the  real  author  of  the 
letters,  and  his  defence  of  the  rights  of  the  Irish  people  made 
him  from  that  moment  the  idol  of  that  warm-hearted  race. 

Two  years  later  he  visited  England  for  the  purpose 
1726]  of  publishing  his  famous£j£&ffiugr^  Travels'^  The 

work  was  received  with  delight  and  admiration,  and 
was  at  once  recognized  as  his  greatest  gift  to  literature.  But 
applause  could  not  soothe  the  griefs  that  were  about  to  befall 
him.  The  death  of  Stella,  one  of  the  few  beings  whom  he  ever 
really  loved,  happened  in  1728 ;  and  the  loss  of  many  friends 
further  contributed  to  darken  and  intensify  the  glooin  of 
his  proud  and  sombre  spirit.  He  had  from  an  early  period 
suffered  occasionally  from  giddiness,  and  after  Stella's  death 
the  attacks  were  more  frequent  and  more  severe.  Deafness 
deprived  him  of  the  pleasure  of  conversution.  Forebodings 
of  insanity  tormented  him  until  they  were  cruelly  verified.* 
In  1741  he  passed  into  a  state  of  idiocy  that  lasted  without 
interruption  till  his  death  in  1745.  He  is  buried  in  his 
own  cathedral  of  St.  Patrick;  and  over  his  grave  is  in- 
scribed that  terrible  epitaph  composed  by  himself,  in  which 
he  speaks  of  resting  "ubi  scsva  indignatio  ulterius  cor 
lacerare  nequit."11  But  the  most  impressive  monument  of 
this  sad  life  is  the  hospital  for  idiots  and  incurable  madmen, 
built  and  endowed  in  accordance  with  the  directions  of 
Swift's  will. 

An  account  of  Swift's  career  would  be  imperfect  with- 
out some  mention  of  the  two  unhappy  women  whose  love 
for  him  was  the  glory  and  the  misery  of  their  lives.  While 
residing  in  Temple's  family,  he  became  acquainted  with 
Esther  Johnson,  a  beautiful  young  girl,  brought  up  as  a 

*  "I  remember  as  I  and  others  were  taking  with  Swift  an  evening  walk,  about 
a  mile  out  of  Dublin,  he  stopped  short ;  we  passed  on  ;  but  perceiving  he  did  not 
follow  us  I  went  back  and  found  him  fixed  as  a  statue,  and  earnestly  gazing  up- 
wards at  a  noble  tree,  which,  in  its  upper  breeches,  was  much  withered  and  decayed. 
Pointing  at  It,  he  said, '  I  shall  be  like  that  tree ;  I  shall  die  at  the  top.'  "—Dr. 
Yovng. 


SWIFT.  231 

dependant  in  the  house,  to  whom,  while  hardly  in  her  teens, 
Swift  gave  instruction.  The  acquaintance  ripened  into 
the  deepest  and  tenderest  passion.  On  his  removal  to  Ire- 
land, Swift  induced  Stella— such  was  the  poetical  name 
he  gave  her—to  settle  with  her  friend  Mrs.  Dingley  in 
that  country,  where  he  maintained  with  both  of  them 
that  long,  curious,  and  intimate  correspondence  which  has 
since  been  published  as  his  Journal  to  Stella.  There  is 
little  doubt  that  Swift  intended  to  marry  Stella,  and  that 
Stella's  life  was  filled  with  the  hope  that  she  would  be  his 
wife.  During  one  of  his  visits  to  London,  Swift  became  inti- 
mate with  the  family  of  a  rich  merchant  named  Vanhom- 
righ,  whose  daughter  Hester,  to  whom  he  gave  the  name  of 
Vanessa,  he  unwittingly  inspired  with  a  deep  and  intense 
love  for  him.  On  the  death  of  her  father,  Miss  Vanhom- 
righ,  possessing  an  independent  fortune,  retired  to  a  villa  in 
Ireland.  There  Swift  continued  his  visits  without  clearing 
up  to  either  of  the  unhappy  ladies  the  nature  of  his  rela- 
tions to  the  other.  At  last  Vanessa,  driven  almost  to  mad- 
ness by  suspense  and  irritation,  wrote  to  Stella  to  inquire 
into  the  nature  of  Swift's  relations  to  her.  Stella  gave  the 
letter  to  Swift.  In  rage  he  carried  it  to  Vanessa,  and  with- 
out a  word,  but  with  a  terrible  countenance,  threw  it  down 
before  her.  The  poor  girl  died  soon  after.  Swift  at  this 
time  was  probably  the  husband  of  Stella.  It  is  believed 
that  they  were  privately  married  in  the  garden  of  the  dean- 
ery, in  1716.  He,  however,  never  recognized  her  in  public 
as  his  wife,  nor  did  he  ever  live  in  the  same  house  with  her, 
nor  did  he  allow  her  to  meet  him  unless  a  third  person  were 
present.  In  reading  his  words  when  he  was  bereaved  by  her 
death,  one  must  see  that  his  love  for  her  was  intense. 

A  few  comments  on  his  writings  must  close  this  essay. 
The  greatest  and  most  characteristic  of  his  prose  works  is 
the  Voyages  of  Gulliver  (175),  a  vast  and  all-embracing 
satire  upon  humanity  itself  The  general  plan  of  this  book 


232  SWIFT. 

is  as  follows :  a  plain,  unaffected,  honest  ship-surgeon,  de- 
scribes the  strange  scenes  and  adventures  through  which  he 
passes  with  an  air  of  simple,  straightforward,  prosaic  good 
faith,  such  as  Defoe  displays  in(]tobinson  Crusoej  The  con- 
trast between  the  extravagance  of  the  inventions  and  the 
gravity  with  which  they  are  related,  formed  precisely  the 
point  of  the  peculiar  humor  of  Swift,  and  was  the  distin- 
guishing feature  of  his  singular,  saturnine  pleasantry.  He  is 
said  never  to  have  been  known  to  laugh ;  but  to  have  poured 
forth  the  quaintest  and  most  fantastic  inventions  with  an 
air  of  gravity  and  sternness  that  kept  his  audience  in  con- 
vulsions of  merriment.  This  admirable  fiction  consists 
of  four  parts  or  voyages :  in  the  first  Gulliver  visits  the 
country  of  Lilliput,  whose  inhabitants  are  about  six  inches 
in  stature,  and  where  all  the  objects,  houses,  trees,  ships,  and 
animals,  are  in  exact  proportion  to  the  miniature  human 
beings.  The  invention  displayed  in  the  droll  and  surprising 
incidents  is  unbounded ;  the  air  with  which  they  are  re- 
counted is  natural,  and  the  strange  scenes  and  adventures 
are  recorded  with  an  appearance  of  simple  straightforward 
honesty  altogether  inimitable.  The  second  voyage  is  to 
Brobdingnag,  a  country  of  enormous  giants,  sixty  feet  in 
height ;  and  here  Gulliver  plays  the  same  part  that  the  pigmy 
Lilliputians  had  played  to  him.  As  in  the  first  voyage,  the 
contemptible  and  ludicrous  side  of  human  things  is  shown, 
by  exhibiting  how  trifling  they  would  appear  in  almost 
microscopic  proportions,  so  in  Brobdingnag  we  are  made  to 
perceive  how  odious  and  ridiculous  our  politics,  our  wars, 
and  our  ambitions  would  appear  to  the  gigantic  perceptions 
of  a  more  mighty  race.  The  third  part  carries  Gulliver  to  a 
series  of  strange  and  fantastic  countries.  The  first  is  La- 
puta,  a  flying  island,  inhabited  by  philosophers  and  astrono- 
mers ;  whence  he  passes  to  the  Academy  of  Lagado  ;  thence 
to  Glubbdubdrib  and  Luggnagg.  In  this  part  the  author 
introduces  the  terrific  description  of  the  Struldbrugs, 


SWIFT.  233 

wretches  who  are  cursed  with  bodily  immortality  without 
intellects  or  affections. 

Gulliver's  last  voyage  is  to  the  country  of  the  Honyhn- 
hnms,  a  region  where  horses  are  the  reasoning  beings;  and 
men,  under  the  name  of  Yahoos,  are  degraded  to  the  rank 
of  noxious,  filthy  and  unreasoning  brutes.  The  satire  goes 
on  deepening  as  it  advances ;  playful  in  the  scenes  of  Lilli- 
put,  it  grows  more  and  more  bitter  at  every  step,  till  in  the 
Yahoos  it  reaches  a  pitch  of  almost  insane  ferocity. 

Swift  wrote  pamphlets  of  a  partly  religious  character, 
such  as  his  Sentiments  of  a  Church  of  England  Man,  Tlie 
Sacramental  Test,  and  many  others  on  local  and  tempo- 
rary subjects.  They  all  exhibit  the  vigor  of  his  reasoning, 
the  force  of  his  style,  and  the  fierceness  of  his  invective. 
Neither  respect  for  his  own  dignity  nor  respect  for  the 
candor  of  others  ever  restrained  him  from  overwhelming  his 
opponents  with  ridicule  or  abuse.  The  pleasantest  and 
most  innocent  of  his  writings  are  the  papers  written  in  the 
character  of  Isaac  Bickerstaff  (174),  where  he  shows  up 
with  exquisite  drollery,  the  quackery  of  the  astrologer  Part-, 
ridge.  His  letters  are  very  numerous ;  and  those  addressed 
to  his  intimate  friends,  Pope  and  Gay,  and  those  written  to 
Sheridan,  half-friend  and  half-butt,  contain  inimitable  speci- 
mens of  his  peculiar  humor. 

Swift  will  ever  be  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest  masters 
of  English  prose,  and  his  poetical  works  also  will  give  him  a 
prominent  place  among  the  writers  of  his  age.  Yet  they 
have  no  pretension  to  loftiness  of  language ;  they  studiously 
preserve  the  familiar  expression  of  common  life.  In  nearly 
all  of  them  he  adopted  the  short  octo-syllable  verse  that 
Prior  and  Gay  had  rendered  popular.  The  poems,  like  his 
prose,  show  wonderful  acquaintance  with  ordinary  incidents, 
intense  observation  of  human  nature,  and  a  profoundly 
misanthropic  view  of  mankind.  The  most  likely  to  remain 
popular  are  the  Verses  on  my  own  Death,  describing  the 


234  SWIFT. 

mode  in  which  that  event,  and  Swift's  own  character,  would 
be  discussed  among  his  friends,  his  enemies,  and  his  acquaint- 
ances; and  there  is  no  composition  in  the  world  which 
gives  a  more  easy  and  animated  picture,  at  once  satirical 
and  true,  of  the  language  and  sentiments  of  ordinary  society. 
But  his  fame  rests  wholly  upon  his  wonderful  prose.  Vigor 
and  perspicuity  mark  every  page.  There  is  no  sign  of 
pedantry  in  his  style ;  every  sentence  is  homely  and  rugged 
and  strong.  "  He  seems  to  have  hated  foreign  words  as  he 
hated  men."  His  vocabulary  is  thoroughly  Saxon,  and  the 
variety  of  English  idioms  used  in  expressing  his  thought  is 
greater  than  can  be  found  in  any  other  writer  of  his  age.* 

No  member  of  the  brilliant  society  of  which  Pope  and  Swift 
were  the  chief  luminaries,  deserves  more  respect  than  Dr.  John 
Arbuthnot  (1667-1735).  He  was  of  Scottish  origin,  and  enjoyed 
high  reputation  as  a  physician  attached  to  the  Court  from  1709  till 
the  death  of  Queen  Anne.  He  was  one  of  the  most  learned  wits  of 
the  day,  and  was  the  chief  contributor  to  the  Miscellanies  spoken  of 
in  our  discussion  of  Pope.  He  is  supposed  to  have  conceived  the 
plan  of  that  extensive  satire  on  the  abuses  of  learning,  embodied  in 
the  Memoirs  of  Martinus  Scriblerus,  and  to  have  executed  the  best 
portions  of  that  work.  It  is  impossible,  however,  to  distinguish 
between  the  different  contributions  of  the  club.  But  the  fame  of 
Arbuthnot  is  more  intimately  connected  with  the  History  of  John  Bull, 
in  which  the  intrigues  and  Wars  of  the  Succession  are  caricatured 
with  much  drollery.  The  object  of  the  work  was  to  render  the 
prosecution  of  the  war  by  Marlborough  unpopular  with  the  nation. 
The  adventures  of  Squire  South  (Austria),  Lewis  Baboon  (France), 
Nic.  Frog  (Holland),  and  Lord  Strutt  (the  King  of  Spain),  are 
related  with  fun,  odd  humor,  and  familiar  vulgarity  of  language. 
Arbuthnot  is  always  good-natured.  He  shows  no  trace  of  that 
fierce  misanthropy  which  tinged  every  page  of  Swift.  The  charac- 
ters of  the  various  nations  and  parties  are  conceived  and  maintained 

*  For  farther  readings  on  this  topic  see  The  North  American  Review,  Jan.  1868, 
— CnM s  English  Literature,  vol.  II.,  p.  208,  seq.,— Macaulay's  Essay  on  Sir  William 
Temple, — Thackeray's  English  Humorists,— Jeffrey  in  the  British  Essayists,— Scott'a 
lAfe  of  Swift,— Hazlitt's  Lectures  on  The  English  Poets,  Lect.  VI. 


BOLINGBROKE,     BERKELEY.  235 

with  spirit.  The  popular  ideal  of  John  Bull,  with  which  Eng- 
lishmen are  so  fond  of  identifying  their  personal  and  national 
peculiarities,  was  first  stamped  and  fixed  by  Arbuthnot's  amusing 
burlesque. 

Henry  St.  John,  Viscount  Bolingbroke  (1678-1751),  remarkable 
for  his  extraordinary  career  as  a  statesman  and  orator,  was  a  promi- 
nent member  of  the  brilliant  coterie  of  Pope  and  Swift.  After  a 
stormy  public  life,  he  amused  his  declining  years  by  the  compo- 
sition of  political,  moral,  and  philosophical  essays.  While  an  exile 
he  wrote  his  Reflections  on  Exile,  his  Letter  to  Sir  William  Windham  in 
defence  of  his  political  life,  his  papers  On  the  Study  of  History,  and 
On  the  True  Use  of  Retirement.  After  his  death  a  complete  edition 
of  his  works  was  published  in  five  volumes.  His  disbelief  in  the 
divine  origin  of  Christianity  is  distinctly  stated.  The  language  of 
Bolingbroke  is  lofty  and  oratorical ;  but  the  thought  is  often  feeble, 
and  the  tone  of  philosophical  indifference  to  matters  in  which  other 
men  are  interested  seems  to  be  affected.  It  was  to  Bolingbroke  that 
Pope  addressed  The  Essay  on  Man,  and  from  him  the  poet  derived 
many  of  his  loose  opinions. 

vV 

George  Berkeley  (1684-1753)  was  ever  full  of  projects  for  in- 
creasing the  virtue  and  happiness  of  his  fellow-creatures.  When 
fifty  years  of  age  he  was  made  Bishop  of  Cloyue  in  Ireland.  This 
position  he  continued  to  hold,  obstinately  refusing  any  promotion 
that  would  remove  him  from  the  people  for  whom  he  loved  to 
work.  His  writings  are  numerous,  embracing  a  wide  field  of  moral 
and  metaphysical  discussion  (191).  He  is  one  of  the  most  bril- 
liant, as  well  as  one  of  the  earliest  advocates  of  the  ideal  theory ; 
and  therefore  appears  in  contrast  with  Locke  in  the  history  of  Eng- 
lish philosophy.  Locke  traced  ideas  to  external  nature,  teaching 
that  the  phenomena  observed  are  the  measure  of  ideas.  Berkeley 
taught  that  the  ideas  themselves  are  the  only  things  man  can 
pronounce  real.  His  first  philosophical  work  was  his  Theory  of 
Vision,  in  which  he  announces  an  important  discovery  concerning 
knowledge  of  the  properties  of  bodies.  This  was  followed  by 
The  Principles  of  Human  Knowledge,  and  by  the  Three  Dialogues. 
What  he  aimed  to  do  in  his  writings,  was  to  refute  the  scepticism 


x!36  MARY     W  OUTLET     MONTAGU. 

found  in  other  philosophical  works ;  but  in  the  interpretation  of 
much  of  his  thought  he  is  treated  as  though  he  were  himself  a  reck- 
less teacher  of  error. 

Although  Pope  and  many  distinguished  men  of  letters  in  this 
period  assiduously  cultivated  epistolary  composition,  none  of  them 
could  equal  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  (1690-1762)  in  brilliant 
letter-writing.  She  was  the  daughter  of  the  Duke  of  Kingston,  and 
was  celebrated,  even  from  her  childhood,  for  the  vivacity  of  her 
intellect,  her  precocious  mental  acquirements,  and  the  beauty  and 
graces  of  her  person.  Her  education  had  been  far  more  extensive 
and  solid  than  was  then  usually  given  to  women.  Her  acquaintance 
with  history,  and  even  with  Latin,  was  considerable,  and  her  studies 
had  been  in  some  degree  directed  by  Bishop  Buruet.  In  1712  she 
married  Mr.  Edward  Wortley  Montagu,  and  accompanied  him  on 
his  embassy  to  the  court  of  Constantinople.  She  described  her 
travels  over  Europe  and  the  East  in  those  delightful  Letters  which 
have  given  her  in  English  literature  a  place  resembling  that  of 
Madame  de  Sevigne  in  the  literature  of  France  (192).  Admirable 
common  sense,  observation,  vivacity,  extensive  reading  without  a 
trace  of  pedantry,  and  a  pleasant  tinge  of  half-playful  sarcasm,  are 
qualities  of  her  correspondence.  The  style  displays  the  simplicity 
and  natural  elegance  of  the  high-born  and  high-bred  lady  combined 
with  the  ease  of  the  thorough  woman  of  the  world.  The  moral 
tone,  indeed,  is  not  high,  for  the  career  of  Lady  Mary  had  not  been 
such  as  to  cherish  a  very  scrupulous  delicacy.  But  she  had  seen 
so  much,  and  had  been  brought  into  contact  with  so  many  remark- 
ble  persons,  and  in  a  way  that  gave  her  such  means  of  judging  of 
them,  that  she  is  always  sensible  and  amusing.  The  successful 
introduction  of  inoculation  for  the  small-pox  is  mainly  to  be  at- 
tributed to  her  intelligence  and  courage.  She  not  only  had  the 
courage  to  try  the  experiment  upon  her  own  child,  but  with  ad- 
mirable constancy  she  resisted  the  furious  opposition  of  bigotry  and 
ignorance  against  the  bold  innovation.  She  was  at  one  time  the 
intimate  friend  of  Pope,  and  the  object  of  his  most  ardent  adula- 
tion ;  but  a  violent  quarrel  occurred  between  them,  and  the  spiteful 
poet  pursued  her  for  a  time  with  an  almost  furious  hatred.  Shti 
is  the  Sappho  of  his  satirical  works. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

THE     FIRST     GREAT     NOVELISTS. 

TDROSE  FICTION  was  one  of  the  latest  departments  of  literature 
cultivated  by  English  authors.  It  is  true  that  Sydney's  Arcadia 
was  a  chivalric  form  of  this  kind  of  writing,  and  Bacon's  Atlantis 
and  More's  Utopia,  written  in  Latin,  were  philosophical  romances  ; 
but  the  use  of  prose  narrative  in  the  delineation  of  passions,  char- 
acters, and  incidents  of  real  life  was  first  developed  by  a  constella- 
tion of  great  writers  in  the  eighteenth  century,  among  whom  the 
names  of  Defoe,  Richardson,  Fielding,  Smollett,  and  Sterne,  are  the 
most  brilliant. 

The  literature  of  fiction  divides  itself  into  two  great  branches — 
romances  and  novels.  In  the  romance  the  characters  and  incidents 
are  of  a  lofty,  historical,  or  supernatural  character ;  in  the  novel 
there  is  a  recital  of  the  events  of  ordinary  life.  "  The  two  differ 
from  each  other  in  the  element  of  truth.  The  typical  novel  has 
this  complete.  It  adheres  to  the  Hue  of  characters  it  has  chosen  to 
delineate,  with  thorough  and  exact  representation,  striving  to  make 
them  clearly  drawn  counterparts  of  those  real  persons  whom  they 
represent.  The  romance  lacks  truth,  and  that  in  the  worst  of  all 
ways,  by  insensible  departures,  by  excessive  coloring,  by  glaring 
and  false  lights.  It  is  against  the  romance  element,  ever 

o  o 

likely  to  appear  in  historical  novels,  as  it  appears  in  history  itself, 
when  it  runs  like  a  child  after  the  glittering  march  and  the  sono- 
rous sounds  of  war,  that  most  of  the  moral  objections  to  works  of 
fiction  hold."  *  In  the  department  of  the  novel,  from  its  first  ap- 
pearance in  our  literature  down  to  the  present  time,  English  writers 
have  encountered  few  rivals  and  no  superiors. 

*  Bascom's  Philosophy  of  English  Literature,  p.  87i. 


238  DANIEL    DEFOE. 

Daniel  Defoe  (1661-1731)  was  the  founder  of  the  English  novel. 
He  was  the  son  of  a  London  butcher  named  Foe,  and  not  liking  the 
family  name  he  attached  a  prefix  to  suit  his  taste.  He  was  edu- 
cated for  the  ministry  in  a  dissenting  sect,  but  chose  a  mercantile 
life,  at  various  times  carrying  on  the  business  of  a  hosier,  a  tile- 
maker,  and  a  woolen  draper.  His  interest  in  politics  led  him  to 
take  up  the  pen  as  a  pamphleteer,  and  his  radical  Protestantism 
carried  him  to  such  extremes  that  he  was  frequently  subjected  to 
punishment.  In  spite  of  the  pillory,  of  fines  and  of  imprisonment, 
he  fearlessly  continued  to  publish  pamphlet  after  pamphlet,  full  of 
irony,  logic,  and  patriotism.  In  The  Trueborn  Englishman,  a  poem 
written  in  singularly  tuneless  rhymes,  he  defended  William  of 
Orange  and  the  Dutch  against  the  prejudices  of  his  countrymen ; 
in  The  Shortest  Way  with  the  Dissenters  he  gravely  proposed  as  the 
easiest  and  speediest  way  of  ridding  the  land  of  them,  to  hang 
their  ministers  and  banish  the  people ;  and  when  the  House  of 
Commons  pronounced  the  pamphlet  a  libel  on  the  nation,  and 
sentenced  him  to  stand  in  the  pillory,  he  coolly  wrote  his  Ode  to  the 
Pillory,  describing  it  as 

"  A  hieroglyphic  state-machine 
Condemned  to  punish  fancy  in." 

During  one  of  his  imprisonments  he  commenced  The  Review,  the 
prototype  of  our  semi-political,  semi-literary  periodicals,  publish- 
ing it  three  times  a  week. 

In  1719  the  first  part  ofufobitison  Crusoe/appeared.  Its 
1719]  success  among  the  humble  readers  whom  Defoe  gener- 
ally addressed  was  instantaneous.  The  simplicity  and 
probability  of  the  events  narrated,  and  the  author's  skill  in  identi- 
fying himself  with  the  character  of  his  recluse,  gave  the  book  an 
intense  interest.  The  impression  it  leaves  on  the  memory  of  every 
reader  is  deep  and  permanent.  The  hero  is  without  pretensions  to 
extraordinary  knowledge  or  intelligence,  and  is  therefore  such  a 
person  as  every  one,  ignorant  or  cultivated,  old  or  young,  can  sym- 
pathize with.  The  more  thoughtful  the  reader,  the  more  does  he 
appreciate  Defoe's  wonderful  art  in  throwing  the  air  of  reality  over 
every  part  of  his  fiction.  Scott  remarks  that  the  author  has  shown 
his  skill  in  this  work,  by  studiously  pitching  it  in  a  low  key,  both 
as  regards  its  style  and  its  incidents. 

Among  Defoe's  other  works  of  fiction,  The  Memoirs  of  a  Cavalier 


DANIEL    DEFOE.  239 

deserves  special  mention.  The  work  professes  to  have  been  written 
by  one  who  had  taken  part  in  the  great  Civil  War ;  and  so  success- 
fully was  the  pretence  carried  out,  that  it  deceived  even  the  great 
Chatham  into  citing  the  volume  as  an  authentic  narrative.  In  A 
Journal  of  tlie  Great  Plague  in  London  (193),  he  shows  the  same 
marvelous  faculty  for  representing  fiction  as  truth.  The  imaginary 
annalist,  a  respectable  London  shopkeeper,  describes  the  terrible 
sights  and  incidents  of  that  fearful  time  with  a  vividness  that  is 
appalling.  The  Adventures  of  Colonel  Jack,  Moll  Flanders,  Boxnna, 
and  Captain  Singleton,  show  the  same  power  of  feigning  reality. 
His  True  Relation  of  the  Apparition  of  one  Mrs.  Veal  was  one  of  the 
boldest  experiments  ever  made  upon  human  credulity,  and  yet  so 
plausibly  was  the  story  told  that  searching  enquiries  were  made  con- 
cerning the  facts  alleged.  His  only  object  in  telling  the  story  was 
to  secure  the  sale  of  a  dull  and  unsaleable  book  ;  and  his  purpose 
was  accomplished,  for  the  whole  edition  of  Drelincourt  on  Death 
quit  the  bookseller's  shelves  in  consequence  of  its  recommendation 
by  the  visitor  from  another  world. 

Defoe's  success  in  fiction  attracted  the  attention  of  other  writers. 
The  field  was  inviting ;  for  the  stage  was  not  in  favor,  the  periodical 
essays  were  written  out,  and  the  popular  demand  for  literary  enter- 
tainment was  increasing.  To  supply  the  demand  a  company  of 
story-tellers  put  themselves  at  work. 

Samuel  Richardson  (1689-1761)  was  the  pioneer  in  that  branch 
of  fiction  which  grows  out  of  the  incidents  of  private  and  common- 
place affairs.  His  life  presents  little  matter  for  comment;  its  main 
features  belong  to  the  ordinary  career  of  a  prudent  and  successful 
tradesman.  He  was  born  in  Derbyshire, — the  son  of  a  poor  car- 
penter. At  fifteen  years  of  age  he  went  to  London  to  become  a 
printer's  apprentice.  The  diligence  with  which  he  pursued  his 
culling  secured  him  rapid  advancement ;  he  was  taken  into  part- 
nership with  his  master,  and  ultimately  became  the  head  of  an 
extensive  business.  At  fifty  years  of  age,  he  stumbled  into  a 
path  leading  him  to  literary  fame.  Letter -writing,  in  those 
days,  was  regarded  as  an  important  branch  of  composition, — a 
means  of  literary  culture.  Richardson  had  been  known  from  his 
youth  as  a  fluent  letter-writer;  and  a  London  firm  wishing  to 
publish  a  series  of  model  letters  as  an  epistolary  manual  to  the 


240  SAMUEL    RICHARDSON. 

lower  classes,  applied  to  him  as  the  suitable  person  to  prepare  them. 
After  he  had  accepted  the  commission,  he  conceived  the  happy 
idea  of  making  the  letters  tell  a  connected  story.  The  result  of  his 
undertaking  was  his  first  novel,  Pamela  ;  or  Virtue  Rewarded. 
1741]  The  heroine  is  represented  as  a  poor,  beautiful,  and  inno- 
cent country  girl,  who  enters  the  serrice  of  a  rich  gentle- 
man. Most  of  the  letters,  in  which  the  master's  wickedness  and  the 
maid's  virtue  are  narrated,  are  written  by  Pamela  herself.  Her 
minute  descriptions  of  her  situation  and  surroundings,  her  trials 
and  heart-conflicts,  and  the  various  events  of  her  anxious  life,  seem 
tedious  to  the  modern  reader.  But  they  possess  an  air  of  reality, 
and  often  introduce  exquisite  touches  of  nature  and  pathos.  The 
sensation  made  among  readers  of  the  old  school  of  chivalric 
fable  by  this  "  romance  of  real  life  "  was  unparalleled.  It  cap- 
tivated public  fancy  as  Hudibras  had  done  a  century  before.  Fash- 
ionable circles  made  it  the  theme  of  their  enthusiasm ;  grave 
moralists  praised  its  fidelity  to  nature,  and  popular  preachers 
applauded  the  high  tone  of  its  morality.  Five  editions  were 
exhausted  in  a  single  year.  Richardson  suddenly  found  himself 
famous ;  but  his  was  not  a  mind  to  be  unsettled  by  success.  He 
continued  to  exercise  laudable  and  prosaic  industry  in  his  busi- 
ness. He  was  first  Printer  of  the  House  of  Commons;  in  1754 
he  became  Master  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  and  in  1760  he 
bought  a  half-share  in  the  lucrative  office  of  Printer  to  the  King. 
In  the  intervals  of  business,  however,  writing  in  the  parlor  of  his 
back  shop,  he  assiduously  labored  to  develop  his  new-found  re- 
sources. Clarissa  Harlowe,  published  in  1749,  and  Sir  Charles 
Grandison.  in  1753,  gave  fresh  evidence  of  his  literary  talent,  and 
attained  a  popularity  equal  to  that  of  their  predecessor.  Richard- 
son's pleasure  in  his  own  fame  was  somewhat  alloyed  by  his  over- 
sensitive temperament.  He  could  not  endure  with  complacency  the 
free  and  sometimes  caustic  criticism  passed  upon  his  work.  For 
some  years  before  his  death  he  withdrew  himself  from  general 
society,  and  passed  most  of  his  time  in  his  suburban  home  at  Par- 
son's Green,  London.  There  he  was  the  adored  centre  of  a  little 
group  of  admiring  women.  His  published  correspondence  and 
literary  remains,  give  a  curious  picture  of  the  enervating  and 
twaddling  flattery  which  soothed  his  timidity  and  nourished  his 
eelf-sarisfaction. 


RICHARDSON    AND     FIELDING.  241 

Clarissa  Harlowe  is  Richardson's  greatest  work.  Whether  we 
consider  the  interest  of  the  story,  the  variety  and  truth  of  the  char- 
acters, or  the  intense  pathos  of  the  catastrophe,  we  must  not  only 
accord  it  a  decisive  superiority  over  his  other  productions,  but  must 
give  it  also  one  of  the  foremost  places  in  the  catalogue  of  prose 
fiction.  It  is  the  tragic  story  of  a  young  lady  who  falls  a  victim  to 
the  treachery  and  profligacy  of  a  man  of  splendid  talent  and  attrac- 
tions, but  of  complete  and  almost  diabolical  corruption.  Although 
Richardson  is  far  more  successful  in  the  delineation  of  women 
than  of  men,  yet  Lovelace  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  and  finished 
portraits  that  literature  has  to  show.  In  this,  as  in  Richard- 
son's other  novels,  the  interest  is  generated  by  the  accumulation 
of  a  thousand  delicate,  almost  imperceptible  touches,  and  the  char- 
acters are  elaborated  with  painful  minuteness.  It  requires  an  effort 
to  yield  the  attention  to  the  gentle,  equable  current  of  incident  and 
emotion ;  yet  after  a  time  its  force  is  found  to  be  irresistible. 

Richardson  never  relinquished  the  idea  of  incorporating  a  moral 
into  his  writings.  In  his  three  successive  works  he  essayed  to  por- 
tray three  different  orders  in  the  social  scale.  Pamela  dealt  with 
the  lower,  Clarissa  Harlowe  with  the  middle  class  of  society.  In 
Sir  Charles  Grandison  he  intended  to  represent  an  ideal  hero  who 
should  combine  the  graces  and  acomplishments  of  the  man  of  fash- 
ion with  the  perfection  of  mental  and  religious  culture. 

While  Richardson  was  enjoying  the  praise  of  his  first  volume, 
Henry  Fielding  (1707-1754)  set  himself  to  work  to  ridicule  Pamela 
and  to  rival  the  modest  printer.  In  character  the  two  men  had 
little  in  common.  Fielding  was  a  gay,  rollicking  fellow,  who 
laughed  at  virtue  and  hated  all  pretensions  to  dignity.  He  had 
inherited  a  broken-down  estate  and  extravagant  habits  from  his 
father.  At  twenty  years  of  age  he  found  himself  dependent  upon 
his  own  resources,  and  at  once  betook  himself  to  the  stage,  compos- 
ing many  interior  comedies,  and  writing  busily  for  the  journals  of 
the  day.  His  career  for  some  years  was  a  continuous  struggle  with 
fortune.  He  married  an  excellent  lady,  and  squandered  her  prop- 
erty ;  he  speculated  in  the  Haymarket  Theatre,  and  failed  utterly ; 
he  then  tried  the  law,  and  was  called  to  the  bar,  but  there  too  he 
was  unsuccessful.  He  also  took  an  active  part  in  political  contro- 
versy, and  in  numerous  pamphlets  and  articles  maintained  liberal 


242  HEJfRY    FIELDING. 

principles.  It  was  not  until  the  year  1742  that  he  struck  out  that 
vein  of  humorous  writing  in  which  he  never  had,  nor  is  ever  likely 
to  have,  a  rival.  His  first  novel,  Joseph  Andrews,  was  a  powerful 
caricature  of  the  timid  and  fastidious  morality,  the  sentimen- 
talism  and  the  somewhat  preaching  style  of  Pamela.  It  at  once  re- 
ceived the  honor  due  to  a  great  original  creation.  In  rapid  succes- 
sion he  produced  his  Journey  from  this  World  to  the  Next,  full  of 
political  allusions  that  have  now  lost  their  piquancy,  and  his  truly 
remarkable  satirical  tale  The  Life  of  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great.  In 
1749  he  was  appointed  a  police  magistrate.  While  holding  this 
office  he  composed  the  finest,  completest,  and  profoundest 
1749]  of  his  works,  the  incomparable  Tom  Jones.  (191),  a  story 
whose  dramatic  scenes  and  characters  must  have  been 
drawn  from  the  exhibitions  of  real  life  in  his  court. 

Amelia,  his  third  great  novel,  closes  the  list.  Ruined  in  health 
by  labor  and  excesses,  he  sailed  for  Lisbon  in  1754,  seeking  benefit 
from  a  genial  climate;  but  before  the  close  of  that  year  he  was 
buried  in  the  strange  land. 

Fielding  was  an  accurate  observer  of  character.  With  the  vast 
and  motley  field  of  English  society,  so  strongly  marked  at  that  time, 
he  was  minutely  acquainted,  and  his  spirit  delighted  in  the  repro- 
duction of  its  oddities  and  eccentricities.  He  is  intensely  English. 
Hogarth  himself  is  not  more  so.  In  the  construction  of  his  plots, 
Fielding  was  masterly.  That  of  Tom  Jones  is  perhaps  the  finest 
example  to  be  met  with  in  fiction  of  a  series  of  events  probable,  yet 
surprising,  each  leading  to  the  ultimate  catastrophe.  He  combined 
aa  almost  childish  delight  in  fun  and  extravagantly  ludicrous  inci- 
dent, with  a  philosophic  analysis  of  character.  Sometimes  he 
masks  impressive  moral  reflections  under  a  pleasant  air  of  satire 
and  irony.  There  is  a  freshness  in  his  writing  not  found  in  Rich- 
ardson ;  there  is  also  boisterousness,  coarseness  of  thought,  and  an 
evident  delight  in  dealing  with  the  nature  of  the  depraved. 

The  most  attractive  character  in  Joseph  Andrews  is  Parson 
Adams,  one  of  the  richest,  most  humorous,  and  truly  genial  concep- 
tions of  this  great  artist.  Adams's  learning,  simplicity,  and  cour- 
age, together  with  his  innumerable  and  always  consistent  oddities, 
make  him  a  character  as  humorous  as  Sancho  Panza  himself. 
In  the  adventures  of  Jonathan  Wild  the  Great,  the  exploits  of  a 
consummate  scoundrel  are  related  in  a  tone  of  ironical  admira- 


FIELDIXG    AND    SMOLLETT.  243 

tion  ;  and  the  story  contains  some  powerful,  and  many  humorous 
scenes. 

In  Tom  Jones  (194)  it  is  difficult  to  know  what  most  to  admire 
— the  artful  conduct  of  the  plot,  the  immense  variety,  truth,  and 
hnmor  of  the  personages,  the  gayety  of  the  incidents,  or  the  many 
acute  remarks.  Tom  Jones  himself  and  the  fair  Sophy,  though 
elaborated  by  the  author  with  peculiar  care,  as  types  of  all  that 
he  thought  attractive,  are  tinged  with  much  coarseness  and  vul- 
garity ;  but  the  time  when  Fielding  wrote  was  remarkable  for  the 
low  tone  of  manners  and  sentiment. 

The  interest  of  Amelia  is  entirely  domestic.  The  story  was 
intended  to  portray  Fielding's  own  follies  and  irregularities,  and 
to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  virtues  and  love  of  his  wife.  The  errors 
and  repentance  of  Captain  Booth,  and  the  inexhaustible  love  and 
indulgence  of  the  heroine,  are  strongly  contrasted.  Fielding  had 
little  power  over  the  pathetic  emotions ;  there  are,  however,  in 
this  novel  several  touching  episodes  and  strokes  of  character  ex- 
hibiting that  peculiar  characteristic  of  truly  humorous  conceptions, 
namely,  the  power  of  touching  the  heart  while  exciting  the  sense 
of  the  ludicrous. 

Nearly  contemporary  with  Fielding's  novels,  were  the  first 
efforts  of  another  distinguished  worker  in  the  same  field, — Tobias 
George  Smollett  (1721-1771)  (195).  Smollett  was  of  Scotch  par- 
entage. His  family,  though  poor,  gave  him  a  university  education. 
He  undertook  to  support  himself  by  the  profession  of  medicine ; 
but  his  attention  was  diverted  from  his  studies  by  an  uncontrollable 
desire  for  literary  fame,  and  his  life  was  almost  as  chequered  and 
distressed  as  that  of  Defoe.  At  the  age  of  nineteen  he  went  to  Lon- 
don, hoping  to  secure  a  publisher  for  a  tragedy  entitled  The  Regicide. 
Failing  in  this,  he  embarked  in  an  expedition  to  Carthagena  in  the 
humble  office  of  surgeon's  mate.  This  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
studying  those  grotesque  features  of  sea-life  which  he  afterwards 
reproduced  in  his  fictions.  Quitting  the  service  after  he  had  reachbd 
the  West  Indies,  he  resided  there  until  he  returned  to  London  in 
1744.  For  several  years  he  divided  his  time  between  the  practice 
of  medicine  and  the  pursuits  of  literature.  He  had  produced 
several  satires  and  poems  of  trifling  merit  before  1748 ;  in  that  year 
Roderick  Random  opened  his  career  as  a  novelist.  Three  years  later 


2-ii  o BO  KGB  SMOLLETT. 

it  was  followed  by  Peregrine  Pickle,  and  in  1753  The  Adventures  of 
Ferdinand,  /Count  Fathom^  a  counterpart  to  Fielding's  Jonathan 
Wild,  appeared.  Previous  to  this  Smollett  had  become  discouraged 
with  his  small  success  as  a  physician,  and  had  resolved  to  concen- 
trate his  energies  in  the  efforts  of  his  pen.  He  became  active  in 
political  controversy ;  and  although  the  vigor  of  his  style  and  the 
patriotic  ardor  of  his  convictions  made  his  writings  effective,  his 
rashness  and  vehemence  of  personal  feeling  often  brought  him  into 
collision  with  the  law.  Assuming  the  management  of  The  Critical 
Review,  he  used  the  columns  to  reveal  his  knowledge  of  naval 
abuses.  A  fierce  attack  upon  the  commander  of  the  expedition  to 
Carthagena  subjected  him  to  a  suit  for  libel.  He  was  heavily  fined 
and  was  imprisoned  for  several  months.  He  continued  to  edit  the 
Review,  however,  and  exercised  his  literary  censorship  so  vigorously 
as  to  provoke  the  abuse  of  a  host  of  angry  politicians,  authors,  and 
doctors.  The  activity  of  his  pen  was  indefatigable ;  he  produced 
in  rapid  succession  a  translation  of  Don  Quixote,  a  fourth  novel  en- 
titled Sir  Lancelot  Greaves,  and  a  History  of  England,  in  which  he 
displayed  his  partisan  prejudices.  The  experiences  of  two  years 
spent  in  foreign  travel  were  narrated,  in  a  Tour  in  France  and  Haiti. 
His  last  political  work  was  a  satirical  attack  upon  Lord  Bute,  en- 
titled The  Adventures  of  an  Atom.  At  fifty  years  of  age  his  health 
was  completely  broken  down  by  agitation  and  incessant  labor,  and 
he  was  ordered  to  try  the  effect  of  a  more  genial  climate.  He  re- 
sided a  short  time  at  Leghorn,  and  there,  in  spite  of  exhaustion 
and  suffering,  his  genius  gave  forth  its  most  pleasing  flash  of  comic 
hamor.  This  was  the  novel  of  Humphrey  Clinker,  the  most  genial 
and  truly  humorous  of  his  works.  Like  Fielding,  Smollett  died 
and  was  buried  in  a  foreign  land.  The  two  most  intensely  national 
of  the  great  group  of  English  character-painters  were  doomed 
to  lay  their  bones,  nearly  at  the  same  time,  under  the  soil  of  the 
stranger. 

The  plots  of  Smollett's  novels  are  not  unfolded  with  the  slow 
and  exquisitely  logical  coherence  of  Richardson,  nor  are  the  inci- 
dents combined  and  grouped  with  that  masterly  knowledge  of 
effect  which  distinguishes  Fielding.  Each  of  his  novels  is  a  series 
of  scenes — striking,  grotesque,  farcical,  pathetic— with  no  bond 
of  union  save  their  common  connection  with  two  or  three  chief 
actors.  Yet  the  lively  succession  of  persons  and  events  is  a 


GEORGE    SMOLLETT.  24:5 

constant  stimulus  to  the  attention ;  what  is  coarse  and  repul- 
sive in  description  is  life-like ;  while  freshness  and  earnest- 
ness offset  an  occasional  tendency  to  florid  expression  and  sen- 
timental exaggeration.  Smollett's  characters  are  numerous  and 
sketched  with  great  animation,  but  they  are  not  analyzed  with  a 
profound  knowledge  of  passion  and  motive.  Having  seized  some 
prominent  feature,  or  having  placed  some  oddity  of  mind  or  per- 
son in  a  strong  light,  he  ceased  to  care  for  development  and  con- 
sistency. Many  of  his  most  laughable  scenes  depend  for  their  effect 
upon  physical  humor, — blows  and  kicks  and  extravagant  terrors; 
but,  unlike  Fielding,  he  fails  to  make  such  episodes  throw  light 
upon  interesting  traits  of  human  nature.  With  the  laugh  they  have 
excited,  Smollett's  use  of  them  is  at  an  end.  He  "  excels  most  as 
the  lively  caricaturist;  Fielding  as  the  exact  painter  and  profound 
metaphysician." 

Of  Smollett's  novels  Roderick  Random  is  in  some  respects  the 
most  vigorous.  It  is  full  of  transcripts  from  the  author's  personal 
experience ;  the  hero's  miseries  at  school,  his  apprenticeship  to  the 
apothecary,  his  sufferings  on  board  ship,  bear  every  mark  of  pic- 
tures from  life.  The  same  may  be  said  of  his  inimitable  and  ex- 
quisitely varied  sailor-characters.  As  a  rule  his  heroes  have  but 
little  to  attract  the  reader's  sympathy,  being  generally  hard,  impu- 
dent, and  selfish  adventurers  ;  but  in  the  subordinate  persons,  and 
especially  iu  those  of  whimsical  but  faithful  dependants,  he  shows 
a  greater  warmth  of  sentiment.  Humphrey  Clinker,  though  run- 
ning over  with  fun  and  grotesque  incident,  exhibits  a  riper  and 
mellower  tone  of  character-painting  than  is  to  be  found  in  his  pre- 
ceding works.  This  novel  contains  much  that  is  merely  descriptive ; 
it  purports  to  be  the  travelling-journal  of  the  droll  an'd  original 
party  whcse  letters  make  up  the  work.  The  modern  reader  may 
gather  many  interesting  details  of  life  in  the  eighteenth  century 
from  Smollett's  picturing  of  the  various  localities  in  England  and 
Scotland  which  were  visited  in  the  imaginary  tour. 

We  have  a' ready  referred  to  Smollett's  work  as  a  political  writer. 
He  also  possessed  considerable  poetical  talent.  His  best  effort  in 
this  department  is  entitled  the  Tears  of  Scotland.  It  expresses  the 
patriotic  indignation  of  a  generous  mind,  horror-struck  by  the 
cruelties  perpetrated  by  the  English  troops  after  the  battle  of 
Culloden. 


2-iG  LAURENCE    STERNE. 

The  character  of  Laurence  Sterne  (1718-17G8)  was  as  eccentric 
as  his  works.  He  was  born  in  Ireland,  but  received  his  education 
at  the  University  of  Cambridge.  He  entered  the  church,  and 
through  the  influence  of  his  relatives  enjoyed  considerable  prefer- 
ment. To  the  living  of  Sutton  he  added  a  prebend's  stall  in  the 
Cathedral  of  York,  and  he  was  ultimately  advanced  to  the  rich 
living  of  Coxwold.  His  private  life  was  little  in  harmony  with  his 
profession  ;  he  appears  to  have  been  fanciful,  vain,  and  self-indul- 
gent, perpetually  at  war  with  his  brother  churchmen,  and  to  have 
been  masking  caprice  and  selfishness  in  his  domestic  relations  under 
a  pretence  of  extreme  sensibility.  In  1761  he  published  the  first 
two  volumes  of  a  novel  entitled  Tristram  Shandy  (196).  The 
freshness  and  oddity  of  his  style  captivated  popular  taste,  and  two 
more  volumes  which  appeared  in  the  following  year,  instantly  at- 
tained the  height  of  public  favor.  Sterne  became  the  lion  of  fash- 
ionable society  in  London.  For  a  time  he  indulged  his  morbid  ap- 
petite for  flattery  and  his  propensity  to  sentimental  intrigue  in  the 
brilliant  circles  of  the  capital.  He  then  went  upon  the  Continent ; 
and  during  his  travels  through  France  and  Italy  accumulated  the 
materials  for  his  charming  Sentimental  Journey.  This  was  his  best 
and  last  production;  he  took  up  his  residence  in  London  for  the 
purpose  of  superintending  its  publication,  and  died  in  desolate 
lodgings,  in  the  fifty-fifth  year  of  his  age. 

Sterne's  works  consist  of  the  novel  of  Tristram  Shandy,  of  the  Sen- 
timental Journey,  and  of  a  collection  of  Sermons,  written  in  the  odd 
and  fantastic  style  which  he  brought  into  temporary  vogue.  Tris- 
tram Shandy,  though  nominally  a  romance  in  the  biographical  form, 
is  intentionally  irregular  and  capricious.  The  hero  makes  no 
appearance  on  the  scene  of  action,  and  the  story  consists  of  a  series  of 
episodes  which  introduce  the  reader  to  the  home-life  of  an  English 
country  family.  This  family  is  one  of  the  most  amusing  collections 
of  odd  individualities  that  ever  genius  has  delineated.  The  mythi- 
cal Tristram  and  Yorick,  a  humorous  clergyman  in  whom  Sterne 
has  idealized  his  own  character,  alternately  carry  on  the  narrative  ; 
and  other  prominent  personages  are  Walter  Shandy,  a  retired  mer- 
chant, the  father  of  Tristram,  his  wife,  his  brother,  Toby  Shandy,  a 
veteran  officer,  and  his  servant,  Corporal  Trim.  These  are  all  con- 
ceived and  executed  in  the  finest  and  most  Shakespearean  spirit  of 
humor  and  tenderness ;  and  they  are  supported  by  a  crowd  of 


LAWRENCE    STEKHE.  J>-t7 

minor,  yet  hardly  less  individual  portraitures.  Mr  Shandy,  the 
restless  crotchety  philosopher,  is  drawn  with  consummate  skill,  and 
is  admirably  contrasted  with  the  simple  benevolence  and  profes- 
sional enthusiasm  of  the  unequalled  Uncle  Toby,  a  creation  of  the 
order  of  Sancho  Panza  and  Parson  Adams.  Acute  observation  of 
the  minor  traits  of  human  nature  seems  to  have  been  Sterne's 
strongest  quality.  He  portrays  his  characters  not  by  description, 
but  by  allusion,  and  fascinates  the  reader  by  incidental  and  unex- 
pected revelation  of  their  amiable  eccentricities.  He  also  shows 
himself  a  master  in  combining  the  humorous  and  the  pathetic. 
Both  his  humor  and  his  pathos  are  often  truly  admirable ;  although 
the  one  sometimes  degenerates  into  indecent  buffoonery,  and  the 
other  into  sickly  sentimentality.  The  Sentimental  Journey  was  in- 
tended by  its  author  to  form  a  sequel  to  Tristram  Shandy.  It  has 
glaring  faults,  both  in  taste  and  in  morality ;  yet  it  abounds  in 
charming  descriptions  and  passages  of  quaint  pathos.  Much  may 
be  forgiven  the  author,  in  consideration  of  the  candor  and  appre- 
ciation of  his  tone  in  treating  of  foreigners  and  foreign  institutions. 
Such  a  tone  was  equally  rare  and  laudable,  at  a  time  when  English- 
men regarded  all  other  nations  with  the  most  bigoted  prejudice 
and  hostility. 

In  Sterne's  writings  there  is  a  parade  of  obscure  and  quaint 
erudition.  This  tends  to  give  an  original  flavor  to  his  style, 
and  at  the  time  of  his  writing,  when  the  elder  authors  were  but 
little  studied,  it  passed  for  an  indication  of  extensive  learning ;  but 
he  is  now  known  to  have  been  the  boldest  of  plagiarists,  pillaging 
without  scruple  the  pages  of  Burton,  Rabelais,  aud  the  old  Jy.wyers 
and  canonists. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

^  HISTORICAL  WRITERS  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH   CENTURY.       '» 

PN  accordance  with  a  law  which  seems  at  particular  epochs  to 
govern  the  appearance  of  great  names  in  one  department  of  art 
or  literature,  like  the  sculptors  of  the  Periclean  age,  the  romantic 
dramatists  in  that  of  Elizabeth,  and  the  novelists  who  appeared  in 
England  in  the  days  of  Richardson  and  Fielding,  the  middle  of  the 
eighteenth  century  was  signalized  by  a  remarkable  wealth  of  his- 
torical genius,  and  gave  birth  to  Hume,  Robertson  and  Gibbon. 

David  Hume  (1711-1776),  a  Scotchman,  was  educated  at  the 
University  of  Edinburgh.  A  taste  for  literature  and  literary  pur- 
suits early  declared  itself  as  his  ruling  passion,  but  the  limited  cir- 
cumstances of  his  family  seemed  to  make  its  gratification  impossible. 
However,  after  a  vain  attempt  to  devote  himself  to  the  Law, and  an 
equally  unsuccessful  trial  of  commercial  life,  Hume  resolved  "  to 
make  a  very  rigid  frugality  supply  his  deficiency  of  fortune,  and  to 
regard  every  object  as  contemptible  except  the  improvement  of 
his  talents  in  literature."  At  the  age  of  twenty-three  he  went  to 
France  with  the  intention  of  pursuing  his  studies  in  a  country 
retreat.  Three  years  passed  very  agreeably  in  close  attention  to 
philosophy  and  general  literature.  In  1737  he  returned  to  Great 
Britain  to  publish  the  first-fruits  of  his  pen,  A  Treatise  on  Human 
Nature.  ''Never,"  says  Hume's  autobiography,  "was  literary  at- 
tempt more  unfortunate.  But  being  naturally  of  a  cheerful  and 
sanguine  temper,  I  very  soon  recovered  the  blow."  Two  volumes 
of  Moral  and  Philosophical  Essays,  published  in  1742,  met  with  a 
more  favorable  reception ;  but  the  wavering  fortunes  of  the  next 
ten  years  would  have  chilled  the  aspirations  of  a  less  resolute  soul. 
True  to  his  resolve,  Hume  eked  out  his  slender  patrimony  with 
genuine  Scotch  thrift ;  it  was,  however,  hardly  sufficient  for  his 


D  A  V  I  D    II  U  ?,I  E  .  949 

support,  and  as  yet  his  receipts  from  the  booksellers  were  very 
small.  By  acting  for  one  year  as  tutor  to  an  insane  nobleman,  and 
for  two  more  as  aid-de-camp  of  a  military  embassy,  he  obtained 
what  seemed  to  his  modest  desires  a  competence.  He  then,  in  1752, 
became  Librarian  of  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  in  Edinburgh.  This 
position  brought  him  no  salary,  but  placed  at  his  command  a  large 
and  excellent  collection  of  books.  With  the  aid  thus  furnished 
he  began  his  great  work,  the  History  of  England  from  the  Accession 
of  the  Stuarts  to  the  Revolution  of  1688  (2O3).  To  this  he  afterwards 
added  the  earlier  history,  from  the  invasion  of  Julius  Caesar  to  the 
reign  of  James  I.  The  first  two  volumes  were  received  with  the 
same  neglect  which  had  blighted  his  former  publications  ;  and  in- 
difference became  general  odrum  when  the  work  was  found  to  be 
an  embodiment  of  high  Tory  principles.  However,  the  great  merits 
of  the  plan  and  the  excellence  of  the  style,  revealed  more  and  more 
with  each  successive  volume,  gradually  overcame  prejudices. 
1762]  Before  the  time  of  its  completion,  the  History  had  attained 
a  great  and  universal  reputation.  One  edition  after  an- 
other was  rapidly  bought  up  ;  and  common  consent  named  Hume 
the  first  of  English  historians.  He  now  received  a  call  to  public 
service,  and  attended  Lord  Hertford  on  his  embassy  to  Paris. 
Although  he  had  neither  the  personal  graces  nor  the  conversational 
talents  requisite  for  shining  in  the  brilliant  society  of  the  capital, 
his  literary  reputation  secured  him  abundant  homage.  His  auto- 
biography speaks  with  evident  complacency  of  the  "  excessive 
civilities"  he  received  from  "men  and  women  of  all  ranks  and 
stations."  After  his  return  to  Scotland,  he  for  two  years  dis- 
charged the  duties  of  Under-Secretary  of  State.  The  emoluments 
of  his  public  offices,  added  to  his  income  from  the  publishers,  had 
by  this  time  raised  him  to  comparative  affluence.  He  retired  to  his 
native  city  of  Edinburgh,  and  passed  the  last  years  of  his  life  in  the 
tranquil  enjoyment  of  his  literary  fame,  and  in  the  affection  of  his 
personal  friends. 

As  a  metaphysical  writer  Hume  deserves  a  distinguished  place 
in  the  history  of  philosophy  (2O4).  He  was  a  skeptic  of  the  most 
logical  and  uncompromising  type. 

The  History  of  England  is  a  hook  of  very  high  value.  In  a 
certain  exquisite  ease  and  vivacity  of  narration  it  has  certainly 
never  been  surpassed ;  and  in  the  analysis  of  character  and  the 


250  171  L  LI  AM    110  BERT  SOX. 

appreciation  of  great  events,  Hume's  singular  clearness  and  philo- 
sophic view  give  him  a  right  to  one  of  the  foremost  places  among 
modern  historians.  But  its  defects  are  no  less  considerable.  Hume's 
indolence  induced  him  to  remain  contented  with  taking  his  facts 
from  preceding  writers,  without  troubling  himself  about  accuracy, 
so  that  he  must  be  read  with  distrust  whenever  he  discusses  ques- 
tions that  should  have  required  patient  research. 

Naming  them  in  the  order  of  their  birth,  the  second  in  this 
group  -of  historians  is  William  Robertson  (1721-1793)  (2O5),  the 
son  of  a  Scotch  clergyman.  At  twenty-two  years  of  age  he  entered 
his  father's  profession,  and  began  his  public  work  in  a  quiet  rural 
parish.  There  he  remained  for  fifteen  years,  faithfully  performing 
the  duties  of  his  office,  acquiring  skill  as  a  writer  in  the  composi- 
tion of  his  sermons,  gaining  reputation  as  a  scholarly  thinker,  and 
devoting  all  the  time  he  could  spare  to  the  study  of  history.  In 
1758  he  was  promoted  to  the  charge  of  an  important  church  in 
Edinburgh,  and  in  the  following  year  he  introduced  himself  to  the 
literary  world  by  the  publication  of  A  History  of  Scotland  during  the 
Reigns  of  Queen  Mary  and  James  the  Sixth  (tiO5).  Three  yciu  s  later 
he  was  appointed  Principal  of  the  University  of  "Edinburgh,  and 
Eoyal  Historiographer  of  Scotland.  Ten  years  after  the  publica- 
tion of  his  History  of  Scotland,  his  greatest  work,  The  History  of 
the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth  of  Germany,  was  ready  for  the  press. 
Eight  years  more  were  spent  in  preparing  his  History  of  America. 

Like  Hume  he  is  distinguished  by  the  eloquence  of  his  narrative, 
by  the  picturesque  delineation  of  characters  and  events,  and  by  the 
purity  and  dignity  of  his  style.  In  all  of  his  works  there  is  richness 
and  melody  of  expression,  and  a  strong  power  of  vivid  and  pathetic 
description  ;  but  there  is  a  lack  of  accuracy  in  research.  Recent 
investigations  made  by  Prescott  and  by  English  writers  have  dis- 
pelled some  of  the  romance  of  Robertson.  "  The  fault  of  this  great 
historian  was  one  common  to  the  writers  of  his  time.  Filled  with 
an  exaggerated  idea  of  the  dignity  of  history,  he  trembles  at  the 
thought  of  descending  to  so  mean  a  thing  as  daily  life.  The  Em- 
peror moves  before  us  in  all  his  grandeur,  the  rich  velvet  of  his  train 
sweeping  in  stately  waves  upon  the  marble  that  he  treads.  We 
know  many  of  the  laws  he  made,  the  wars  he  waged,  the  great 
public  assemblies  and  pageants  of  which  he  was  the  brilliant  central 


EDWARD     GIBBON.  251 

figure;  but  we  know  little  of  the  man  who  dwelt  within  the  gor- 
geous wrappings Of  the  many-hued  life  the  people 

lived,  we  hear  next  to  nothing."*  But  in  spite  of  his  defects, 
Robertson's  name  will  always  hold  an  honorable  place  among  the 
historians  of  England. 

Edward  Gibbon  (1737-1794)  was  the  greatest  historical  writer 
of  this  group.  He  was  born  at  Putney,  near  London,  and  was  the 
grandson  of  a  merchant  of  large  fortune.  As  his  health  was  deli- 
cate, his  early  education  was  neglected ;  but  he  acquired  an  in- 
satiable appetite  for  reading,  especially  for  historical  literature. 
When  he  had  been  at  the  University  of  Oxford  a  little  more  than  a 
year,  he  embraced  the  Roman  Catholic  faith.  For  this  act  he  was 
taken  from  the  University  and  was  sent  to  Lausanne,  where  he  waf 
placed  under  the  care  of  an  eminent  Swiss  theologian.  He  subse- 
quently re-entered  the  Protestant  Church  ;  but  it  is  probable  that 
this  change  of  faith  was  only  a  matter  of  form  about  which  he 
was  merely  indifferent.  In  Switzerland  he  commenced  that  course 
of  systematic  study  which  gradually  filled  his  mind  with  stores  of 
sacred  and  profane  learning ;  and  there  too  he  acquired  a  strong 
sympathy  with  French  modes  of  thought.  Indeed,  the  first-fruits 
of  his  pen  actually  appeared  in  French,  an  essay  on  the  Study  of 
Literature.  Between  1763  and  1765  he  travelled  over  France,  Swit- 
zerland, and  Italy.  His  own  words  must  be  used  in  describing  an 
incident  which  occurred  in  1764.  "As  I  sat  musing  amidst  the 
ruin  of  the  Capitol,  while  the  barefooted  friars  were  singing  vespers 
in  the  Temple  of  Jupiter,  the  idea  of  writing  the  Decline  and  Fall 
of  the  city  first  started  to  my  mind."  t 

Returning  to  England  in  1765  he  passed  several  years  in  com- 
parative leisure,  before  setting  himself  strenuously  at  work  on  the 
composition  of  his  history.  The  first  volume  appeared  in  1776,  re- 
ceiving the  applause  of  the  learned,  and  the  favor  of  the 
1776]  masses  of  readers.  Meanwhile  Gibbon  had  taken  a  seat  in 
Parliament  and  was  interested  in  the  political  questions 
of  the  day.  His  support  was  given  to  Lord  North  throughout  the 
period  of  our  Revolutionary  War.  In  1781  the  second  and  third 
volumes  of  his  history  were  published.  He  then  retired  from  the 
service  of  the  government,  sought  his  old  retreat  at  Lausanne,  and 

*  Collier  t  Memoirs,  p.  199 


252  EDWARD    GIBBON. 

for  four  years  devoted  himself  to  the  completion  of  his  vrork.  He 
thus  describes  the  hour  and  the  scene  when  the  task  -was  ended  : 
"  It  was  on  the  day,  or  rather  night,  of  the  27th  of  June  1787,  be- 
tween the  hours  of  eleven  and  twelve,  that  I  wrote  the  last  lines  of 
the  last  page,  in  a  summer  house  in  my  garden.  After  laying  down 
my  pen,  I  took  several  turns  in  a  bcrceau  or  covered  walk  of  acacias, 
which  commands  a  prospect  of  the  country,  the  lake,  and  the 
mountains.  The  air  was  temperate,  the  sky  was  serene,  the  silver 
orb  of  the  moon  was  reflected  from  the  waters,  and  all  nature  was 
silent.  I  will  not  dissemble  the  first  emotions  of  joy  on  the  recov- 
ery of  my  freedom,  and  perhaps  the  establishment  of  my  fame. 
But  my  pride  was  soon  humbled,  and  a  sober  melancholy  was  spread 
over  my  mind  by  the  idea  that  I  had  taken  an  everlasting  leave  of 
an  old  and  and  agreeable  companion  ;  and  that,  whatsoever  might 
be  the  future  fate  of  my  history,  the  life  of  the  historian  must  be 
short  and  precarious/'  He  died  in  London  in  1794. 

The  History  of  the  Decline  and  Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  (206-209) 
is  one  of  the  greatest  monuments  of  human  industry  and  skill.  It 
begins  with  the  reign  of  Trajan,  A.  D.  98,  and  closes  with  the  fall 
of  the  Eastern  Empire  in  1452.  These  thirteen  and  a  half  centuries 
include  not  only  the  slow  decline  of  the  Roman  Empire,  but  also 
the  irruption  of  the  barbarians,  the  establishment  of  the  Byzantine 
power,  the  re-organization  of  the  European  nations,  the  foundation  of 
the  religious  and  political  system  of  Mohammedanism,  and  the  Cru- 
sades. The  materials  for  much  of  the  structure  had  to  be  patiently 
gathered  from  the  rubbish  of  the  Byzantine  annalists,  and  from  the 
wild  stories  of  the  eastern  chroniclers.  To  create  light  and  order 
out  of  this  chaos,  the  historian  had  to  make  himself  familiar  with 
the  whole  range  of  philosophy,  religion,  science,  jurisprudence  and 
war,  as  they  contribute  to  the  civilization  of  the  nations  and  ages 
described  by  him.  And  when  all  this  work  was  done,  he  had  to  set 
it  forth  in  an  attractive  manner.  For  the  influences  exerted  by  the 
literature  and  civilizations  of  Greece  and  Rome,  he  had  a  masterly 
appreciation  ;  but  he  is  not  mindful  of  the  important  part  acted  by 
the  Teutonic  races  in  contributing  to  the  results  of  modern  history, 
and  is  boldly  sceptical  concerning  the  power  and  purity  of  Chris- 
tianity. He  has  been  regarded  as  one  of  the  most  dangerous  ene- 
mies by  whom  the  Christian  faith  has  been  assailed.  Valiant  men 
have  taken  up  weapons  against  him,  and,  in  some  instances.  have 


EDWARD     GIBBOIT.  253 

been  betrayed  by  their  zeal  into  an  unfair  warfare  upon  him.  The 
accusation  of  Laving  intentionally  distorted  facts,  or  of  garbling 
authorities,  he  has  refuted  in  the  Vindication  in  which  he  replied  to 
his  opponents ;  and  the  deliberate  opinion  of  Guizot,  whom  no  one 
can  accuse  of  indifference  to  religion,  will  be  conclusive  as  to  Gib- 
bon's merit  on  this  point. 

His  style  is  elaborate  and  sonorous.  There  is  a  stately  tread  in 
his  sentences.  They  lack  simplicity;  they  abound  in  epigram  and 
antithesis,  and  have  a  displeasing  preponderance  of  the  Latin  over 
the  Saxon  element  in  their  diction.  He  describes  scenery  and  man- 
ners with  the  accuracy  and  vividness  of  an  eye-witness.  His  cl  ief 
fault  is  found  in  the  fact  that  his  imagination  was  sensuous,  and  led 
him  to  dwell  upon  material  grandeur  with  a  fonder  enthusiasm  than 
he  could  feel  for  moral  elevation. 


7 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

ETHICAL,    POLITICAL,    AND    THEOLOGICAL    WRITERS     OF    THE 
LATTER    HALF    OF    THE    EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 

SAMUEL  JOHNSON. 

"A  mass  of  genuine  manhood." — Thomas  Carlyle, 

"  Johnson,  to  be  sure,  has  a  rough  manner ;  but  no  man  alive  has  a  better  heart. 
He  has  nothing  of  the  bear  but  the  skin."—  Oliver  Goldsmith. 

"  Rabelais  and  all  other  wits  are  nothing  compared  to  him.  You  may  be  diverted 
by  them;  but  Johnson  gives  you  a  forcible  hug  and  squeezes  laughter  ont  of  you, 
whether  you  will  or  no."— David  Oarrick, 

"  He  was  distinguished  by  vigorous  understanding  and  inflexible  integrity.  His 
imagination  wag  not  more  lively  than  was  necessary  to  illustrate  his  maxims  ;  his 
attainments  in  science  were  inconsiderable,  and  iu  learning  far  from  the  first-class ; 
they  chiefly  consisted  in  that  sort,  of  knowledge  which  a  powerful  mind  collects 
from  miscellaneous  reading  and  various  intercourse  with  mankind." — Sir  James 
Mackintosh. 

"If  it  be  asked,  who  first,  in  England,  at  this  period,  breasted  the  waves  and 
stemmed  the  tide  of  infidelity, — who,  enlisting  wit  and  eloquence,  together  with 
argument  and  learning  on  the  side  of  revealed  religion,  first  turned  the  literary 
current  in  its  favor,  and  mainly  prepared  the  reaction  which  succeeded— that  praise 
geems  most  justly  to  belong  to  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson." — Lord  Mahon :  History  of 
England. 

"  The  club-room  is  before  us,  and  the  table  on  which  stands  the  omelet  for  Nugent, 
and  the  lemons  for  Johnson.  There  are  assembled  those  heads  which  live  forever 
on  the  canvas  of  Reynolds.  There  are  the  spectacles  of  Burke  and  the  tall  thin  form 
of  Langton,  the  courtly  sneer  of  Beauclerc  aiid  the  beaming  smile  of  Garrick ; 
Gibbon,  tapping  his  snuff-box,  and  Sir  Joshua  with  his  trumpet  in  his  ear.  In  the 
foreground  is  that  strange  figure  which  is  as  familiar  to  us  as  the  figures  of  those 
among  whom  we  have  been  brought  up,  the  gigantic  body,  the  huge  massy  face 
seamed  with  the  scars  of  disease,  the  brown  coat,  the  black  worsted  stockings,  the 
gray  wig  with  the  scorched  foretop,  the  dirty  hands,  the  nails  bitten  and  pared  to 
the  quick.  We  see  the  eyes  and  mouth  moving  with  convulsive  twitches ;  we  see 
the  heavy  form  rolling,  we  hear  it  puffing;  and  then  comes  the  '  Why,  sir!'  and  the 
'  What  then,  sir  ?  '  and  the  '  No,  sir ! '  and  the  '  You  don't  see  your  way  through  the 
question,  sir  ! '" — T.  B.  Nacaulay. 

~TT7~HILE  the  novelists  and  historians  whose  works  we 
VV      have  been  considering  were  busy  with   their  pens, 


SAMUEL     JOHNSON.  255 

other  writers  of  prose  were  making  valuable  contributions  to 
letters  in  the  department  of  ethics,  politics,  and  theology. 
The  central  figure  of  the  literary  men  of  the  period  is  Samuel 
Johnson  (1709-1784).  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor  bookseller 
in  Lichfield.  From  his  childhood  he  had  to  struggle  against 
disease,  and  melancholy,  and  an  indolent  disposition.  In  1728 
he  was  sent  to  Oxford.  There  he  remained  three  years,  until 
his  dying  father  had  become  unable  to  help  him.  Leaving 
the  University  without  his  degree,  he  attempted  to  support 
himself  by  teaching;  but  he  was  unsuccessful,  and  turned 
his  attention  to  literary  work.  He  was  already  married  to  a 
lady  old  enough  to  be  his  mother.  Without  fortune  and 
without  friends  he  settled  in  London  in  1737,  beginning  his 
thirty  years'  struggle  with  labor  and  want*  The  profession 
he  had  chosen  was  then  at  its  lowest  ebb,  and  he  was  com- 
pelled to  do  its  humblest  work.  He  was  a  bookseller's  hack, 
a  mere  literary  drudge.  Poverty  attended  him.  Once,  in  a 
note  to  his  employer,  he  subscribed  himself,  "  Yours,  impran- 
sus,  S.  Johnson."  He  wrote  for  various  publications,  and 
particularly  for  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  furnishing  criti- 
cism, prefaces  and  translations.  In  1738  he  made  a  good 
name  among  the  booksellers  by  the  sale  of  his  London 
(215),  an  admirable  paraphrase  of  the  third  satire  of  Juve- 
nal. In  1744  he  published  A  Life  of  Savage,  that  unhappy 
poet  whose  career  was  so  extraordinary,  and  whose  vices 
were  not  less  striking  than  his  talents.  Johnson  had  known 
him  well,  and  they  had  often  wandered  supperless  and  home- 
less about  the  streets  at  midnight.  Indeed,  no  literary  life 
was  ever  a  more  correct  exemplification  than  his  own  of 
the  truth  of  his  majestic  line : 

t 

"  Slow  rises  worth  by  poverty  depressed." 


•»  David  Garrick,  a  young  man  who  had  been  one  of  his  pupils,  accompanied 
Johnson  to  London,  intending  to  study  law  at  Lincoln's  Inn ;  but  the  stage 
attracted  him  away  from  the  bar,  and  he  soon  began  his  famous  career  aa  an 
actor. 


256  SAMUEL     JOHNSON 

From  1747  to  1755  Johnson  was  engaged  in  the  prepara- 
tion of  his  most  famous  work,  A  Dictionary  of  the 
1755]  English  Language  (211).  He  had  promised  to 
complete  it  in  three  years ;  but  the  labor  was  ardu- 
ous, and  seven  years  were  spent  in  getting  its  pages 
ready  for  the  printer.  As  there  was  no  such  work  in  Eng- 
lish literature,  it  supplied  a  want  that  had  been  long  felt. 
Its  success  was  great,  and  its  compiler  was  applauded  far 
and  wide.  Many  imperfections  may  be  found  in  it,  especially 
in  its  etymologies,  for  Johnson  shared  the  general  English 
ignorance  of  the  Teutonic  languages  from  which  two-thirds 
of  the  words  of  our  language  are  derived.  But  in  the  accu- 
racy of  its  definitions  and  in  the  quotations  adduced  to  ex- 
emplify the  different  meanings  of  words,  it  could  not  have 
been  surpassed. 

While  at  work  upon  his  dictionary  he  diverted  his  mind 
by  the  publication  of  ^Tlie  Vanity  of  Human  Wishes\%\&), 
an  imitation  of  the  tenth  satire  of  Juvenal ;  and  at  the 
same  time  he  brought  out  upon  the  stage  his  tragedy  of 
Irene,  a  work  begun  in  his  earlier  years.  Johnson  founded, 
and  carried  on  alone,  two  periodical  papers  in  the  style  that 
Addison  and  Steele  had  rendered  so  popular.  These  were 
the  Rambler,  (212)  and  the  Idler;  the  former  was  pub- 
lished from  1750  until  1752,  and  the  latter  from  1758  until 
1760.  The  ease,  grace,  pleasantry,  and  variety  which  gave 
such  charm  to  the  Taller  and  Spectator  are  totally  incom- 
patible with  the  heavy,  antithetical,  ponderous  manner  of 
Johnson;  and  his  good  sense,  piety,  and  sombre  tone  of 
morality  are  but  a  poor  substitute  for  the  knowledge  of  the 
world  displayed  in  his  models.  This  species  of  periodical 
essay-writing,  which  exerted  so  powerful  an  influence  on 
taste  and  manners  in  the  eighteenth  century,  may  be  said  to 
terminate  with  the  Idler,  though  continued  with  gradually 
decreasing  originality  by  other  writers. 

Johnson's  mother  died  in  1759,  and  he  was  without  the 


SAMUEL    JOHNSON.  257 

funds  needed  to  pay  the  expenses  of  her  funeral.  To  raise 
this  money  he  spent  the  nights  of  one  week  in  the  compo- 
sition of  his  once-famous  moral  tale,  Rasselas,  Prince  of 
Abyssinia.  The  manners  and  scenery  of  this  story  are 
neither  those  of  an  oriental  nor  of  any  other  country,  and  the 
book  is  but  a  series  of  dialogues  and  reflections,  embodying 
the  author's  ideas  on  a  great  variety  of  subjects  connected 
with  art,  literature,  society,  philosophy,  and  religion. 

It  was  not  until  1762,  when  he  was  fifty-three  years  of 
age,  that  he  escaped  from  the  poverty  against  which  he  had 
long  and  valiantly  struggled.  At  the  accession  of  George  III. 
the  government  hoped  to  gain  popularity  by  showing  favor  to 
art  and  letters.  Johnson  was  recognized  as  holding  a  high 
position  among  literary  workers,  and  was  selected  as  one 
who  should  enjoy  the  royal  bounty.  A  pension  of  three 
hundred  pounds  placed  him  above  want,  and  enabled  him 
to  indulge  his  constitutional  indolence.  His  good-fortune 
was  shared  with  the  poor.  A  blind  old  woman,  a  peevish 
old  man,  and  other  helpless  people  found  a  home  in  his 
dwelling,  and  in  him  a  patient  friend. 

Johnson's  earlier  life,  with  its  poverty,  its  affliction,  its 
toil,  is  not  distinctly  pictured  by  his  biographer.  Its  min- 
gled romance  and  misery  keep  us  from  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  him  before  the  day  of  his  good-fortune,  but  from 
that  time  he  is  known  as  no  other  man  of  the  past  is ;  *  for 
the  year  after  the  pension  was  decreed  to  him,  he  became 

*  Johnson  grown  old,  Johnson  in  the  fullness  of  his  fame  and  in  the  enjoymeut 
of  a  competent  fortune,  is  better  known  to  ns  than  any  other  man  in  history. 
Everything  about  him,— his  coat,  his  wig,  his  figure,  his  face,  his  scrofula,  his  St. 
Vitus's  dance,  his  rolling  walk,  his  blinking  eye,  the  outward  signs  which  too 
clearly  marked  hie  approbation  of  his  dinner,  his  insatiable  appetite  for  fish-sauce 
and  veal-pie  with  plums,  his  inextinguishable  thirst  for  tea,  his  trick  of  touching 
the  posts  as  he  walked,  his  mysterious  practice  of  treasuring  up  scraps  of  orange- 
peel,  his  morning  slumbers,  his  midnight  disputations,  his  contortions,  his  mutter- 
ings,  his  gruntings,  his  puttings,  his  vigorous,  acute,  and  ready  eloquence,  his  sar- 
castic wit,  his  vehemence,  his  insolence,  his  fits  of  tempestuous  rage,  his  queer 
inmates,  old  Mr.  Levett  and  blind  Mrs.  Williams,  the  cat  Ilodge  and  the  negro 
Frank,— all  are  as  familiar  to  us  as  the  objects  by  which  we  have  been  surrounded 
from  childhood."—  T.  B.  Macaulay. 


258  SAMUEL     JOHXSON. 

acquainted  with  a  young  Scotchman,  James  Boswell, 
Esq.,  a  vain,  tattling,  frivolous  busybody,  whose  only  claim 
to  respect  is  that  he  produced  the  best  biography  that  had 
been  written  in  English, — and  that  was  Boswell's  Life  of 
Johnson.  From  the  beginning  of  the  acquaintance  Boswell 
revered  the  sage,  listened  to  him  as  though  his  sentences 
were  sacredly  i/ispired,  and  treasured  up  every  word  that  he 
could,  as  it  came  from  the  lips  of  his  saint.  Every  night 
he  wrote  in  his  note-book  the  wise  sayings  of  the  philoso- 
pher, adding  notes  to  the  last  detail  of  dialogue  and  of 
action,  until,  at  last,  his  notes  gave  him  the  material  with 
which  to  produce  his  famous  book.  He  has  given  not  only 
the  most  lively  and  vivid  portrait  of  the  person,  manners, 
and  conversation  of  Johnson,  but  also  the  most  admirable 
picture  of  the  society  amid  which  he  played  so  brilliant  a 
part.  Among  the  celebrated  social  meetings  of  that  age  of 
clubs  was  the  society  founded  by  Johnson,  in  which  his 
friends  Reynolds,  Burke,  Garrick,  Bishop  Percy,  Goldsmith, 
Bennet  Langton,  Beauclerc,  and  others,  were  prominent 
figures.  Johnson's  powers  of  conversation  were  extraor- 
dinary, and  were  famously  used  in  that  company.  He  de- 
lighted in  discussion,  and,  by  constant  practice,  had  acquired 
the  art  of  expressing  himself  with  pointed  force  and  ele- 
gance. His  ponderous  expression  formed  an  appropriate 
vehicle  for  his  weighty  thoughts,  his  apt  illustrations,  and 
his  immense  stores  of  reading  and  observation.  This  was 
perhaps  the  most  brilliant  and  the  happiest  portion  of  his 
life.  He  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  family  of  a  rich 
brewer  named  Thrale,  a  member  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
whose  wife  was  famous  for  her  talents  and  for  the  intel- 
lectual society  she  gathered  around  her.  Under  their  roof 
Johnson  enjoyed  all  that  friendship,  respect,  and  great 
wealth  could  give.  This  acquaintance  lasted  sixteen  years, 
and  gave  him  the  opportunity  of  frequenting  refined 
society.  In  the  company  of  the  Th rales  he  made  several 


SAMUEL     J  0  H  X  S  0  X  .  259 

excursions  to  different  parts  of  England,  and  once  to  Paris. 
His  edition  of  Shakespeare  appeared  in  1765.  It  cannot 
be  said  to  have  added  to  his  reputation.  "With  the  excep- 
tion of  an  occasional  happy  remark,  and  a  sensible  selection 
from  the  commentaries  of  preceding  annotators,  it  is  quite 
unworthy  of  him.  In  1773  Johnson,  in  company  with  his 
friend  Boswell,  made  a  journey  to  the  Hebrides  (214),  which 
enabled  him  to  become  acquainted  with  Scotland  and  the 
Scotch,  and  thus  to  dissipate  many  of  his  odd  prejudices 
against  the  country  and  the  people.  The  volume  giving  an 
account  of  his  impressions  contains  many  interesting  pas- 
sages.* 

The  Lives  of  the  Poets  (SI 3),  published  in  1781,  was  his 
last  important  work.  Johnson  had  undertaken  the  task  of 
preparing  very  brief  biographical  sketches,  and  a  critical 
preface  for  a  new  edition  of  the  English  poets.  His  infor- 
mation was  so  abundant  that  the  work  grew  into  a  volume 
abounding  in  passages  of  the  happiest  and  most  original 
criticism.  But  no  reader  should  form  his  opinion  of  these 
poets  from  Johnson.  His  applause  is  given  to  the  writers 
of  the  artificial  school;  Cowley,  Waller,  and  Pope  filled 
his  vision.  Others  he  could  not  understand.  His  criticisms 
on  Milton,  Gray,  Thomson,  Akenside  were  denounced  at 
the  time  as  monstrous  examples  of  injustice.  In  uttering 
his  disapproval  of  Johnson's  treatment  of  Milton  even  the 
patient  Cowper  said,  "  I  could  thrash  his  old  jacket  till  I 
made  the  pension  jingle  in  his  pocket." 

On  the  13th  of  December,  1784,  this  good  man  and  emi- 

*  The  Journey  to  the  Hebrides  was  a  work  re-written  from  private  letters  ad- 
dressed to  Mrs.  Thrale.  A  comparison  between  the  original  letters  and  the  version 
expressed  in  pompous  language,  such  as  Johnson  considered  essential  to  the  dignity 
of  literature,  shows  many  amusing  transformations.  The  following  instance  fur- 
nishes an  illustration.  "When  we  were  taken  up  stairs,"  he  says  in  one  of  the 
letters,  "  a  dirty  fellow  bounced  out  of  the  bed  on  which  one  of  us  was  to  lie."  In 
the  Journey,  the  same  incident  is  ihu3  described, — "  Out  of  one  of  the  beds  on 
which  we  were  to  repose,  started  up,  at  our  entrance,  a  man  black  as  a  Cyclops  from 
the  forge," 


260  SAMUEL     JOHNSON. 

neiit  writer  died,  and  a  week  afterwards  he  was  buried  in 
Westminster  Abbey.     For  two  years  he  had  been 
1784]      suffering  from  dropsy  and  asthma,  and  had  been 
haunted  by  his  old  melancholy. 

Johnson's  style  was  so  peculiar  that  it  has  received  the 
distinguishing  name  of  "  Johnsonese."  There  is  in  it  none 
of  Addison's  colloquial  elegance,  none  of  Swift's  idiomatic 
terseness.  Short  words  had  no  charm  for  him.  Sonorous 
Latin  derivatives,  and  carefully  elaborated  sentences,  were 
marshalled  in  honor  of  his  thoughts.  Whether  describing 
a  scene  in  a  tavern,  or  expatiating  on  the  grandest  of  moral 
themes,  the  same  majestic  display  of  language  makes  his 
writing  monotonous.  This  was  generally  thought  to  he  the 
sign  of  his  genius  by  the  men  of  letters  who  bowed  before 
him ;  though  Goldsmith  once  boldly  declared  to  his  face, 
/  "  If  you  were  to  write  a  fable  about  little  fishes,  Doctor,  you 
would  make  the  little  fishes  talk  like  whales."  J"In  fact,  his 
phraseology  rolls  away  in  solemn  and  majestic  periods,  in 
which  every  substantive  marches  ceremoniously,  accom- 
panied by  its  epithet;  great,  pompous  words  peal  like  an 
organ ;  every  proposition  is  set  forth  balanced  by  a  propo- 
sition of  equal  length  ;  thought  is  developed  with  the  com- 
passed regularity  and  official  splendor  of  a  procession.  .  . 
.  .  An  oratorical  age  would  recognize  him  as  a  master, V 
and  attribute  to  him  in  eloquence  the  primacy  which 
attributed  to  Pope  in  verse."  *  f 

Johnson's  character  shows  a  blending  of  prejudice  and 
liberality,  of  scepticism  and  credulity,  of  bigotry  and  can- 
dor. He  was  an  heroic  straggler  with  misfortune.  He  was 
one  of  the  invincibles.  Throughout  his  life  he  was  an 
independent,  resolute  man;  in  boyhood  he  threw  away 
the  shoes  which  pity  had  sent  to  him,  in  manhood  he 

*  Taine.t 

t  Johnson's  famous  letter  to  Lord  Chesterfield  \11Q)  is  in  striking  contrast  with 
his  general  stylo. 


EDMUND    BURKE.  261 

threw  away  the  tardy  courtesies  of  Chesterfield.  Among 
frivolous  men,  he  was  serious ;  among  scoffers,  he  was 
reverent;  among  insincere  men,  he  was  sincere;  among 
selfish  men,  he  was  generous.  Of  him  Carlyle  says, 
"  As  for  Johnson,  I  have  always  considered  him  to  be  by 
nature,  one  of  the  great  English  souls."  In  common  breed- 
ing he  was  utterly  wanting ;  his  dress,  his  motion,  his  voice, 
his  face,  his  eating, — all  were  offensive.  We  think  of  him  as 
a  most  ill-mannered  man.  The  blending  of  greatness  and 
meanness  puzzles  us  until  we  remind  ourselves  that  his  severe 
schooling  in  poverty  developed  the  noble  and  the  boorish 
traits  together.  When  weary  and  lame  he  reached  the  top 
of  the  ladder  by  which  he  had  climbed  from  poverty  and 
obscurity  to  competence  and  fame,  he  had  brought  with 
him  the  begrimed  and  offensive  manners  of  his  underground 
life.  He  was  thoroughly  a  man  of  letters.  ^No  better  speci- 
men of  the  type  appears  in  the  eighteenth  century.) 

Consult  Carlyle's  Essays.  Walpole's  Men  of  (he  Reign  of  George  III.  Albert 
Barnes's  Miscellaneous  Essays.  Hazlitt  On  the  Periodical  Essayists.  Macaulay'n 
Essay  on  Samuel  Johnson.  Macaulay's  E*say  on  Croker's  Edition  of  BoswelCs  Life 
of  Johnson,  and  BoswelTs  Life  of  Johnson. 

Cv 
Edmund  Burke  (1730-1797)  was  a  man  of  such  powerful  and 

versatile  genius  that  he  has  been  likened  to  Bacon.  He  stands 
foremost  among  English  political  writers  and  orators.  The  fervor 
and  imagery  of  oratcfry  are  found  in  his  philosophical  discussions, 
and  the  highest  qualities  of  the  statesman  and  the  man  of  letters 
appear  in  all  of  his  pages.  He  had  a  becoming  enthusiasm  for 
whatever  object  attracted  his  sympathies,  and  into  the  sen-ice 
of  this  enthusiasm  he  impressed  all  the  disciplined  forces  of  his 
learning,  his  logic,  and  his  historical  and  political  knowledge.  He 
was  the  son  of  an  Irish  attorney,  and  spent  many  of  his  early  days 
near  the  ruins  of  Spenser's  famous  castle  of  Kilcolman.  Early  in 
life  he  went  to  England  to  study  law,  but  his  tastes  soon  led  him 
into  literary  work,  and  he  became  a  regular  writer  for  the  maga- 
zines. His  first  reputation  was  gamed  by  The  Vindication  of  Natu- 
ral Society,  an  ironical  imitation  of  the  style  and  sentiments  of 


202  EDMUND    BURKE. 

Lord  Bolingbroke.  la  pursuing  Bolingbroke's  course  of  reasoning 
he  reached  the  conclusion, that,  as  wickedness  has  prevailed  under 
every  ibnn  of  government,  society  itself  is  evil,  and  therefore, that 
only  the  savage  state  is  conducive  to  virtue  and  happiness.  The 
Avork  was  published  anonymously  ;  but  so  perfect  was  it  as  an 
imitation  of  the  style  and  sentiment  of  Bolingbroke  that  the  most 
eminent  critics  of  the  day,  among  them  Samuel  Johnson,  did  not 
detect  its  intense  and  delicate  irony,  and  pronounced  it  a  genuine 
posthumous  work  of  the  earlier  philosopher  and  statesman. 

A.  tew  months  afterwards  Burke  published  An  Essay  on  the  Sub- 
lime and  Beautiful  (218),  which  has  since  been  regarded  as  one  of 
the  classics  in  our  literature.  This  work  gained  him  a  high  place 
in  the  public  esteem,  and  introduced  him  into  the  most  brilliant 
literary  circles. 

He  began  his  political  career  as  secretary  to  the  Chief  Secretary 
of  Ireland.  The  position  was  not  pleasing  to  him.  He  soon 
received  an  appointment  from  the  Marquis  of  Rockinghain,  the 
Prime  Minister,  and  at  once  began  his  long  public  life  of  honor 
and  activity.  He  sat  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  was  one  of  the 
most  prominent  debaters  during  the  agitated  periods  of  the  Ameri- 
can and  the  French  Revolutions.  The  Reign  of  Terror  in  France 
transformed  Burke  from  a  constitutional  Whig  into  a  Tory,  but  at 
the  same  time  animated  his  genius  to  some  of  its  noblest  bursts  of 
eloquence.  His  Reflections  on  the  French  Revolution  (22O)  was 
written  with  the  most  anxious  care,  and  with  the  most  masterly 
skill.  In  going  through  the  press  its  proofs  were  patiently  criti- 
cised eleven  times  before  he  was  satisfied  to  publish  the  work. 
When  it  appeared  its  success  amply  repaid  his  labor,  for  it  was 
read  far  and  wide,  and  was  most  influential  throughout  Europe  in 
checking  the  dangerous  tendencies  of  that  age.  His  Letter  to  a 
Noble  Lord  (222),  provoked  by  an  ungenerous  assault,  deservedly 
ranks  high  among  the  products  of  his  pen.  V  The  culminating  point 
of  his  political  life  was  the  part  he  played  in  the  trial  of  Warren 
Hastings  (221).  In  that  majestic  and  solemn  scene,  where  a  great 
nation  sat  in  judgment  upon  a  great  man,  Burke  played  the  most 
prominent  part.  He  was  among  the  managers  of  the  impeachment, 
and  acting  in  the  name  of  the  House  of  Commons  he  pronounced 
one  of  the  sublimes!  philippics  that  ancient  or  modern  oratory  can 


JUKI  US,     SMITH,    BLACRSTOISTE.  263 

From  1769,  with  occasional  interruptions  down  to  1772,  there 
appeared  in  the  Public  Advertiser,  one  of  the  leading  London  jour- 
nals, a  series  of  brilliantly  sarcastic  letters,  for  the  most  part  signed 
JUNIUS  (223).  Their  attack  was  directed  against  the  great  public 
men  of  the  day.  They  exhibited  so  much  weight  and  dignity  of 
style,  and  so  minute  an  acquaintance  with  the  details  of  party 
tactics,  and  breathed  such  a  lofty  tone  of  constitutional  principle, 
combined  with  such  bitterness,  and  even  ferocity  of  personal  invec- 
tive, that  their  influence  was  unbounded.  The  annals  of  political 
controversy  show  nothing  so  fierce  and  terrible  as  these  invectives. 
They  will  ever  be  regarded  as  master-pieces  in  their  particular 
style.  Who  Junius  was  still  remains  a  mystery.  Burke,  Hamil- 
ton, Francis,  Lyttleton,  and  Lord  George  Sackville  have  been  fixed 
upon  successively  as  their  writer.  The  preponderance  of  evidence 
points  towards  Sir  Philip  Francis. 

Adam  Smith  (1723-1790)  was  the  founder,  in  England,  of  the 
science  of  Political  Economy.  He  was  a  Scotchman,  a  Professor  of 
Logic  and  of  Moral  Philosophy  in  the  University  of  Glasgow,  llis 
most  important  work  is  the  Inquiry  into  the  Nature  and  Causes  of 
the  Wealth  of  Nations  (22-1).  This  discussion  was  the  result  of  ten 
years  of  study  and  investigation.  Upon  the  fact  that  the  only  natural 
process  by  which  a  nation  can  acquire  wealth  is  by  labor,  he  l;iid 
the  foundation  for  modem  economic  science.  His  clear  and  logical 
reasoning,  and  his  abundant  and  popular  illustration  attracted 
much  attention  to  his  teachings,  and  exerted  a  beneficial  influence 
on  legislation  and  commerce.  His  moral  and  metaphysical  theories 
are  now  forgotten,  but  his  Wealth  of  Nations  still  presents  the 
general  principles  of  political  economy  in  their  most  attractive 
form. 

What  Adam  Smith  did  for  the  students  of  Political  Economy, 
Sir  William  Blackstone  (1723-1780)  did  for  the  students  of  the 
Constitution  and  Laws  of  England.  He  was  a  lawyer  who  mingled 
a  strong  taste  for  elegant  literature  with  the  graver  studies  of  hia 
profession.  IlisfCommentaries  on  the  Laws  of  Englandfw'ds  the  first 
systematic  work  which  gave  the  elementary  and  historical  knowl- 
edge requisite  for  the  study.  The  book  is  written  in  an  easy  and 
pleasant  style,  with  a  masterly  analysis,  and  still  is  the  best  outline 
of  the  history  and  the  principles  of  the  subject  he  discusses 


BUTLER,     PALEY,     LYTTLETON. 

The  most  prominent  names  in  the  English  theological  literature 
of  the  eighteenth  century  are  those  of  Bishop  Butler  (1693-1752) 
and  William  Paley  (1743-1805).  The  former  is  more  remarkable 
for  the  severe  and  coherent  logic  with  which  he  demonstrates  his 
conclusions ;  the  latter  for  his  consummate  skill  in  popularizing  the 
abstruser  arguments  of  his  predecessor.  Butler's  principal  work 
is  The  Analogy  of  Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed,  to  the  Constitution 
and  Course  of  Nature  (i§l).  In  it  he  examines  the  resemblance 
between  the  existence  and  attributes  of  God  as  proved  by  arguments 
drawn  from  the  works  of  nature,  and  shows  that  existence,  and 
those  attributes  to  be  in  no  way  incompatible  with  the  notions 
conveyed  to  us  by  revelation. 

Paley's  books  are  numerous,  and  all  excellent ;  the  principal  of 
them  are  Elements  of  Moral  and  Political  Philosophy,  the  Horn  Pau- 
linas (225),  the  Evidences  of  Christianity,  and  the  production  of  his 
oid  age,  the  Treatise  on  Natural  Theology.  It  will  be  seen  from  the 
titles  of  these  works,  over  what  an  extent  of  moral  and  theological 
philosophy  Paley's  mind  had  travelled.  For  clearness,  animation, 
and  easy  grace,  his  style  has  rarely  been  equalled. 

Among  the  crowd  of  less  noticeable  writers  whose  names  might 
be  mentioned  in  this  chapter,  but  few  produced  works  that  still 
have  peculiar  value.  Lord  Lyttleton  published  A  History  of  Henry 
11.  which  is  noteworthy  as  being  the  most  elaborate  work  yet 
written  on  one  of  the  most  momentous  reigns  in  English  history. 
The  Elements  of  Criticism  by  Henry  Home,  Lord  Kames,  and  The 
Philosophy  of  Rhetoric  by  George  Campbell,  in  spite  of  many  pub- 
lications on  the  same  subjects  since  their  time,  continue  to  be  stan- 
dard authorities  in  their  respective  departments. 


CHAPTER  XXIII, 

THE    DAWN    OF    ROMANTIC    POETRY. 

rr^HE  mechanical  perfection  of  the  poetry  of  Pope  and  his  schcol 
•was  so  generally  applauded  that  every  common  versifier  imi- 
tated its  tricks  of  melody  and  its  neat  antitheses.  But  a  thoroughly 
artificial  spirit  cannot  satisfy  the  demands  of  poetry.  Even  while 
Pope  swayed  the  sceptre,  there  were  indications  of  a  disposition  to 
seek  for  themes  in  a  wider  sphere.  Fancy  was  yearning  for  exer- 
cise in  the  fields  of  nature,  and  For  the  excitement  of  emotions.  In 
Matthew  Greene's  poem  The  Spleen,  in  The  Minstrel  of  James 
Beattie,  and  in  The  Grave,  by  Robert  Blair,  this  tendency  is  per- 
ceptible, and  may  be  ascribed  to  a  weariness  coming  from  repeti- 
tions of  far-off  echoes  of  Pope. 

James  Thomson  (1700-1748)  was  an  unconscious  leader  in  that 
great  revolution  of  popular  taste  and  sentiment  which  supplanted 
the  artificial  by  what  is  known  as  the  romantic  type  in  literature. 
He  stands  between  the  poets  of  the  first  and  the  poets  of  the  third 
generation  in  the  eighteenth  century.  In  his  fervid  descriptions  he 
enters  a  realm  of  poetry  unknown  to  Pope ;  but  he  does  not  reach 
the  poetry  of  emotion  and  passion  in  which  Burns  and  later  poets 
found  their  inspiration.  Thomson  was  born  in  a  rural  corner  of 
Scotland.  He  was  educated  at  the  University  of  Edinburgh,  and 
it  was  intended  that  he  should  be  a  preacher;  but  in  the  theo- 
logical class-room  he  was  so  imaginative  in  his  interpretation  and 
paraphrase  of  scripture  that  he  was  cautioned  by  his  professor 
against  the  danger  of  exercising  his  poetic  faculty  in  the  pulpit. 
This  caution  diverted  him  from  his  calling,  and  turned  him  into 
the  paths  of  literature.  In  1725  he  went  to  London,  carrying 
with  him  an  unfinished  sketch  of  his  poem  on  Winter  (228). 
After  much  discouragement  he  succeeded  in  selling  it  for  three 
guineas,  and  in  winning  a  handsome  purse  from  the  gentleman  to 
whom  he  had  dedicated  it  with  flattering  phrases.  The  poem  was 
received  with  favor.  Summer  was  published  in  1727 ;  and  Thom- 
son then  issued  proposals  for  the  completion  of  the  cycle  of  Tftt  Sea- 


206  THOMSON,     COLLINS. 

soiis  by  writing  of  Spring  and  Autumn  (227).  In  1731  he  travelled  in 
France,  Switzerland  and  Italy  as  tutor  to  the  son  of  the  Lord 
Chancellor,  and  on  his  return  to  England  in  1733,  was  appointed 
to  a  sinecure  office  in  the  Court  of  Chancery.  Upon  losing  this 
office  the  Prince  of  Wales  honored  him  with  a  pension,  and  a 
lucrative  position  was  assigned  him  by  the  King.  He  purchased  a 
snug  cottage  near  Richmond,  and  lived  in  modest  luxury.  It  was 
a  genuine  pleasure  for  him  to  live.  He  was  of  an  extremely  kind 
and  generous  disposition,  making  himself  and  all  about  him  com- 
fortable. In  lazy  leisure  he  carried  on  his  literary  work  until  his 
death  in  the  forty-eighth  year  of  his  age.  During  his  happy  retire- 
ment he  composed  The  Castle  of  Indolence  (229),  the  most  enchant- 
ing of  the  many  imitations  of  Spenser's  style.  His  easy,  lazy,  daily 
life  breathed  itself  into  this  charming  poem,  and  favored  a  display 
of  the  finest  qualities  of  his  poetic  genius.  But  The  Seasons  is  the 
comer-stone  of  Thomson's  literary  fame.  In  plan  and  in  treatment 
it  is  original.  Its  description  of  the  phenomena  of  nature  during 
an  English  year  is  minute,  and  therefore  it  is  a  work  much  read  by 
foreigners.  The  blank  verse,  though  seldom  showing  any  of  the 
Miltonic  grandeur,  is  rich  and  harmonious.  Occasionally  the  style 
is  pompous.  In  literary  finish  The  Castle  of  Indolence  is  superior  to 
The  Seasons.  The  allegory  of  the  enchanted  "Laud  of  Drowsi- 
Leacl,"  in  which  the  unhappy  victims  of  Indolence  find  themselves 
hopeless  captives,  is  relieved  with  occasional  touches  of  a  sly  and 
pleasant  humor,  as  in  those  passages  where  Thomson  has  drawn 
portraits  of  himself  and  of  his  friends. 

The  career  of  William  Collins  (1721-1759)  was  brief  and  un- 
happy. He  exhibited  from  very  early  years  the  strong  poetical 
powers  of  a  genius  which,  ripened  by  practice  and  experience, 
would  have  made  him  the  first  lyrical  writer  of  his  age.  But  his 
ambition  was  fitful.  He  led  a  life  of  projects  and  dissipation  ;  and 
the  first  shock  of  literary  disappointment  drove  him  to  des- 
pondency, despondency  to  indulgence  and  indulgence  to  insanity. 
His  first  publication  was  a  series  of  Eclogues,  transferring  the  usual 
sentiments  of  pastoral  verse  to  the  scenery  and  manners  of  the  East. 
Although  these  eclogues  exhibit  traces  of  vivid  imagery  and  melo- 
dious verse,  the  real  genius  of  Collins  must  be  looked  for  in  his 
Odes.  Judged  by  them,  he  will  be  found  entitled  to  a  very  high 
place.  For  true  warmth  of  coloring,  power  of  personification, 


THOMAS     GRAY.  261 

and  dreamy  sweetness  of  harmony,  no  English  poet  had  till  then 
appeared  that  could  be  compared  to  him.  The  ode  entitled  The 
Passions  is  frequently  quoted ;  and  many  of  the  less  popular  ones, 
as  that  addressed  to  Fear  (231),  to  Pity,  to  Simplicity,  and  that  On 
the  Poetical  Character,  contain  happy  strokes,  sometimes  expressed 
in  wonderfully  laconic  language,  and  in  singularly  vivid  portraiture. 
Some  of  the  smaller  and  less  ambitious  lyrics,  as  the  Verses  to  the 
Memory  of  Thomson,  the  Dirge  in  Cymbeline,  and  the  exquisite  verses 
How  Sleep  the  Brave,  are  destined  to  a  more  enduring  fame.  All  the 
qualities  of  Collins's  finest  thought  and  expression  will  be  found 
united  in  the  lovely  little  Ode  to  Evening,  consisting  merely  of  a  few 
stanzas  in  blank  verse,  but  so  subtly  harmonized  that  we  may  read 
them  a  thousand  times  without  observing  the  absence  of  rhyme. 

Thomas  Gray  (1716-1771),  a  man  of  vast  and  varied  acquire- 
ments, whose  life  was  devoted  to  the  cultivation  of  letters,  was 
greater  than  any  former  exclusively  lyric  poet  of  England.  He  re- 
ceived his  education  at  Eton,  and  afterwards  settled  in  learned  retire- 
ment at  Cambridge,  where  he  became  Professor  of  History  in  1768. 
He  acquired  a  high  poetical  reputation  by  his  beautiful  Ode  on  a  Dis- 
tant Prospect  of  Eton  College  (234),  published  in  1747.  This  was 
followed,  at  intervals,  by  t\\dJSlegy  Written  in  a  Country  Church-y^rd 
(233),  the  Pindaric  Odes,  ana  his  other  brilliant  productions.  His 
industry  was  untiring,  and  his  learning  undoubtedly  great;  for  he 
had  pushed  his  researches  far  beyond  the  usual  limits  of  ancient 
classical  philology,  and  was  deeply  versed  in  the  romance  litera- 
ture of  the  Middle  Ages,  in  modern  French  and  Italian,  and  had 
studied  the  then  almost  unknown  departments  of  Scandinavian  and 
Celtic  poetry.  Many  passages  of  his  works  are  a  mosaic  of  thought 
and  imagery  borrowed  from  Pindar,  from  the  choral  portions  of 
the  Attic  tragedy,  and  from  the  majestic  lyrics  of  the  Italian  poets 
of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries ;  but  the  fragments  are 
fused  into  one  solid  body  by  the  intense  flame  of  a  powerful  and 
fervent  imagination.  His  finest  lyric  compositions  are  the  Odes 
entitled  The  Bard,  that  on  the  Progress  of  Poesy  (235),  the  Installa- 
tion Ode  on  the  Duke  of  Grafton's  election  to  the  Chancellorship  of 
the  University,  and  the  short  but  truly  noble  Ode  to  Adversity.  The 
Elegy  Written  in  a  Country  Church-yard  is  a  masterpiece  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  The  thougnts  indeed  are  obvious  enough,  but  the 
dignity  with  which  they  are  expressed,  the  immense  range  of  allu- 


268         AKENSIDE,     SHEKSTOX  E,     W  A  R  T  0  N. 

sion  and  description  with  which  they  are  illustrated,  and  the  fin- 
ished grace  of  the  language  and  versification  in  which  they  are 
embodied,  give  to  this  work  somewhat  of  that  inimitable  perfection 
of  design  and  execution  which  is  seen  in  an  antique  statue.  In  The 
Bard,  starting  from  the  picturesque  idea  of  a  Welsh  poet  and 
patriot  contemplating  the  victorious  invasion  of  his  country  by 
Edward  I.,  he  passes  in  prophetic  review  the  panorama  of  English 
History,  from  the  thirteenth  to  the  sixteenth  century.  In  the  odes 
entitled  The  Fatal  Sisters  and  The  Descent  of  Odin,  Gray  borrowed 
his  materials  from  the  Scandinavian  legends.  The  tone  of  the 
Norse  poetry  is  pernaps  not  very  faithfully  reproduced  ;  but  these 
early  attempts  to  revive  the  rude  and  archaic  grandeur  of  the 
Eddas  deserve  grateful  appreciation. 

Mark  Akenside  (1721-1770),  like  Arbuthnot  and  Smoltt  tt,  was 
a  physician  as  well  as  a  writer.  His  chief  work  is  the  philosophical 
poem  entitled  The  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination  (232),  in  which  he 
seeks  to  investigate  and  illustrate  the  emotions  excited  by  beautiful 
objects  in  art  and  nature.  The  philosophical  merit  of  his  theories, 
indeed,  is  very  often  small,  but  the  beauty  of  the  imagery  and  lan- 
guage will  ever  secure  for  this  lofty  and  thoughtful  work  the  ad- 
miration of  those  readers  who  can  content  themselves  with  elevated 
thoughts,  without  looking  for  passages  of  strong  feeling.  Few 
English  poets  since  Milton  have  been  more  deeply  inspired  by  the 
spirit  of  classical  antiquity. 

A  passing  notice  must  suffice  for  William  Shenstone  (1714-1763), 
whose  popularity,  once  considerable,  has  now  given  place  to  oblivion 
(25JO).  His  pleasing  and  original  poem  the  Schoolmistress  deserves 
to  retain  a  place  in  every  collection  of  English  verse.  This  is  a 
poem  in  the  Spenserian  stanza,  and  in  antique  diction.  "With  a  de- 
lightful mixture  of  quaint  playfulness  and  tender  description,  it 
paints  the  dwelling,  the  character,  and  the  pursuits  of  an  old  vil- 
lage dame  who  keeps  a  rustic  day  school. 

The  two  brothers  Joseph  Warton  (1722-1800)  and  Thomas 
Warton  (1728-1790)  were  the  sons  of  a  Professor  of  Poetry  at  Ox- 
ford, and  both  brothers,  especially  the  younger,  deserve  a  place  in 
the  annals  of  our  literature.  Thomas,  who  was  poet-laureate  from 
1785  until  his  death,  rendered  great  service  to  letters  by  his  agree, 
able  but  unfinished  History  of  English  Poetry.  That  work  unfortu- 
nately cornea  to  an  abrupt  termination  just  as  the  author  is  about 


OLIVER     GOLDSMITH.  269 

to  enter  upon  the  glorious  period  of  the  Elizabethan  era ;  but  it  is 
valuable  for  research  and  for  a  warm  tone  of  appreciative  criticism. 
The  best  of  his  own  original  verses  are  sonnets,  breathing  a  tender 
feeling,  and  showing  much  picturesque  fancy. 

OLIVER  GOLDSMITH. 

"  No  man  was  more  foolish  when  he  had  not  a  pen  in  his  hand,  or  more  wise 
•when  he  had." — Samuel  Johnson. 

"  He  was  a  friend  to  virtue,  and  in  his  most  playful  pages  never  forgets  what  is  dtiff* 
to  it.  A  gentleness,  delicacy  and  purity  of  feeling  distinguish  whatever  he  wrote,  \ 
and  bear  a  correspondence  to  the  generosity  of  a  disposition  which  knew  no  boundj,,, 
but  his  last  guinea."—  Walter  Scott. 

"His  elegant  and  enchanting  style  flowed  from  him  with  so  much  facility  that 
in  whole  quires  he  had  seldom  occasion  to  correct  or  alter  a  single  word." — Bishop 
Percy. 

"  Goldsmith  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  of  English  writers.  He  touched  upon 
every  kind  of  excellence,  and  that  with  such  inimitable  grace,  that  where  he  failed 
of  originality  most,  he  had  ever  a  freshness  and  a  charm." — Mrs.  S.  C.  Hatt. 

"  There  was  in  his  character  much  to  love,  but  little  to  respect.  His  heart  was 
soft  even  to  weakness  ;  he  was  so  generous  that  he  quite  forgot  to  be  just ;  he  for- 
gave injuries  so  readily  that  he  might  be  said  to  invite  them ;  and  was  so  liberal  to 
beggars  that  he  had  nothing  left  for  his  tailor  and  his  butcher.  He  was  vain, 
sensual,  frivolous,  profus---,  improvident." — T.  B.  Macaitlay. 

"Think  of  him  reckless,  thoughtless,  vain,  if  you  like — but  merciful,  gentle, 
generous,  full  of  love  and  pity.  His  humor  delighting  us  still;  his  song  fresh  and 
beautiful  as  when  first  he  charmed  with  it;  his  words  in  all  our  mouths  ;  his  very 
weaknesses  beloved  and  familiar ;  his  benevolent  spirit  seems  still  to  smile  on  us ; 
to  do  gentle  kindnesses  ;  to  succor  with  sweet  charity ;  to  soothe,  caress,  and  for- 
give ;  to  plead  with  the  fortunate  for  the  unhappy  and  the  poor."—  W.  M.  Thackeray. 

Oliver  Goldsmith  (1728-1774)  is  the  most  charming 
and  versatile  writer  of  the  eighteenth  century.  We  place 
him  among  the  poets,  but  we  might  as  well  name  him 
with  the  novelists,  with  the  historians,  or  with  the  ethical 
writers,  for  he  belongs  to  each  of  those  classes,  and  in 
each  of  them  he  has  written  for  delighted  readers.  He 
was  born  at  the  village  of  Pallas,  in  Ireland,  the  son  of 
the  Rev.  Charles  Goldsmith,  a  poor  curate  of  the  Estab- 
lished Church.  In  childhood  b  3  was  attacked  by  small-pox, 
and  through  life  he  bore  the  uo-ly  scars.  At  seventeen  years 
of  age  he  obtained  a  servant's  scholarship  at  the  University 
of  Dublin.  He  neglected  his  opportunities  for  study,  and  be- 


270  0  L  I  V  E  11      GOLDSMITH. 

came  somewhat  notorious  for  his  irregularities,  his  disobedi- 
ence to  authority,  his  improvidence  and  his  morbid  charity. 
After  leaving  the  university  he  tried  successively  to  enter 
the  professions  of  the  teacher,  the  clergyman,  the  lawyer,  and 
the  physician.  In  1755-6  lie  travelled  on  foot  through 
Holland,  France,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and  Italy.  Much 
of  the  way  he  journeyed  as  a  beggar,  playing  his  flute  for  the 
peasants,  in  order  to  gain  a  supper  and  a  bed.  While  thus 
wandering  in  the  guise  of  a  beggar  he  sketched  the  plan  of 
his  famous  poem,  The  Traveller  (199).  In  1756  he  found  his 
way  back  to  England,  and  for  eight  years  struggled  against 
starvation,  sometimes  as  a  chemist's  clerk,  sometimes  as  an 
usher  in  boarding-schools,  sometimes  as  a  physician  among 
the  most  squalid,  and  much  of  the  time  as  a  plodding 
drudge  for  the  booksellers.  His  literary  apprenticeship 
was  passed  in  writing  school-books,  tales  for  children, 
prefaces,  indexes,  reviews  of  books,  and  occasional  articles 
for  the  magazines.  In  this  period  of  obscure  drudgery 
he  composed  the  Letters  from  a  -Citizen  of  the  World 
(197),  giving  a  description  of  English  life  and  man- 
ners in  the  assumed  character  of  a  Chinese  traveller;  a 
Life  of  Beau  Nash ;  and  a  short  and  gracefully  narrated 
History  of  England,  in  the  form  of  Letters  from  a  Noble- 
man to  his  Son.  The  publication  of  his  beautiful  poem 
of  the  Traveller  in  1764  was  the  beginning  of  his  uninter- 
rupted literary  success.  His  writings  were  sought  by  pub- 
lishers who  were  ready  to  pay  him  generous  prices.  But  his 
folly  and  improvidence  kept  him  plunged  in  debt.  In  1766 
(The  Vicar  of  ir^r/e/fZ/appeared,  that  masterpiece  of  gentle 
humor  and  delicate  "tenderness;  and  in  the  next  year  his 
comedy,  The  Good-natured  Man,  though  failing  upon  the 
stage,  brought  him  a  purse  of  five  hundred  pounds.  Those 
earnings  were  quickly  scattered,  and  Goldsmith  put  himself 
at  the  taskwork  of  writing  a  History  of  Rome  for  the  pub- 


OLIVER    GOLDSMITH.  271 

lishers.  Such  a  work,  hurriedly  written,  was,  of  course, 
wanting  in  research,  and  valueless  as  an  authority;  but  it 
displayed  the  author's  grace  of  style  and  vivacity  of  narra- 
tion. In  1770  he  published  his  finest  poemfehe  Deserted 
F*7%e)(2OO),  and  by  it  won  new 'fame.  Five  editions 
were  sold  at  once.  Three  years  after,  he  wrote  his  comedy, 
She  Stoops  to  Conquer,  one  of  the  gayest,  pleasantest, 
and  most  amusing  pieces  that  the  English  stage  can 
boast. 

Goldsmith  was  now  one  of  the  popular  authors  of  his 
time.  His  society  was  courted  by  the  wits,  artists,  states- 
men and  writers  who  formed  a  brilliant  circle  round  John- 
son and  Eeynolds ;  and  he  became  a  member  of  the  famous 
Literary  Club.  His  unconquerable  improvidence,  however, 
still  kept  him  the  slave  of  booksellers,  who  obliged  him  to 
waste  his  exquisite  talent  on  works  for  which  he  neither 
possessed  the  requisite  knowledge  nor  could  make  the  neces- 
sary researches.  Thus  he  successively  put  forth  as  taskwork, 
the  History  of  England,  the  History  of  Greece,  and  the  His- 
tory of  Animated  Nature,  the  two  former  works  being  mere 
compilations  of  second-hand  facts,  and  the  last  an  epitom- 
ized translation  of  Buffon.  He  died  at  the  age  of  forty-six, 
deeply  mourned  by  the  brilliant  circle  of  friends  to  whom 
his  very  weaknesses  had  endeared  him,  and  followed  by  the 
tears  and  blessings  of  many  wretches  whom  his  inexhausti- 
ble benevolence  had  relieved. 

In  everything  Goldsmith  wrote,  prose  or  verse,  serious  or 
comic,  there  is  a  peculiar  delicacy  and  purity  of  sentiment. 
His  genius,  though  in  its  earlier  years  surrounded  by  squalid 
distress,  was  incapable  of  being  sullied  by  any  stain  of  vul- 
garity. No  quality  in  his  writings  is  more  striking  than  the 
union  of  grotesque  humor  with  pure,  pensive  tenderness. 
While  literature  lasts,  readers  will  linger  over  Goldsmith's 
sketches  of  the  scenery  and  natural  peculiarities  of 


272  OLIVER     GOLDSMITH. 

various  countries,  and  over  the  details  in  the  picture  of 
"sweet  Auburn."  The  Vicar  of  Wakefield*  too,  in  spite  of 
the  absurdity  of  the  plot,  is  one  of  those  works  that  the 
world  will  not  let  die.  Its  charm  is  too  exquisite  to  be 
forgotten.  It  was  colored  with  the  hues  of  childhood's 
memory;  and  the  central  figure  in  the  group  of  shadows 
from  the  past  that  came  to  cheer  the  poor  London  author 
in  his  lonely  garret,  was  the  image  of  his  dead  father: 
"For,"  says  John  Forster  in  his  life  of  Goldsmith,  "they 
who  have  loved,  laughed  and  wept  with  the  man  in  black 
of  the  Citizen  of  the  World,  the  Preacher  of  The  Deserted 
.J^Uaae^aud.  Doctor  Primrose  in  the  Vicar_of  Wakefidd* 
have  given  laughter,  love  and  tears  to  the  Rev.  Charles 
Goldsmith."  The  gentle  and  quiet  humor  embodied  in  the 
simple  Dr.  Primrose,  the  delicate  yet  vigorous  contrasts  of 
character  in  the  other  personages,  the  purity,  cheerfulness, 
and  gayety  which  envelop  all  the  scenes  and  incidents,  in- 
sure the  work  its  immortality. 

Goldsmith's  two  comedies  are  written  in  two  different 
methods,  the  Good-natured  Man  being  a  comedy  of  character, 
and  Slie  Stoops  to  Conquer,  a  comedy  of  intrigue.  The  merit 
of  the  first  piece  chiefly  consists  in  the  truly  laughable  per- 
sonage of  Croaker,  and  in  the  excellent  scene  where  the  dis- 
guised bailiffs  are  passed  off  on  Miss  Richland  as  the  friends 

*  Doctor  Johnson  gives  the  following  account  of  his  first  knowing  of  The  Vicar 
of  Wakeflelci  ;— 

"I  received  one  morning  a  message  from  poor  Goldsmith  that  he  was  in  great 
distress,  and,  as  it  was  not  in  his  power  to  come  to  me,  begging  that  I  would  come 
to  him  as  soon  as  possible.  I  sent  him  a  guinea,  and  promised  to  come  to  him 
directly.  I  accordingly  went  as  soon  as  I  was  dressed,  and  found  that  his  landlady 
had  arrested  him  for  his  rent,  at  which  he  was  in  a  violent  passion.  I  perceived 
that  he  had  already  changed  my  guinea,  and  had  got  a  bottle  of  Madeira  and  a  glass 
before  him.  I  put  the  cork  into  the  bottle,  desired  he  would  be  calm,  and  began  to 
talk  to  him  of  the  means  by  which  he  might  be  extricated.  He  then  told  me  he 
had  a  novel  ready  for  the  press,  which  he  produced  to  me.  I  looked  into  it  and  saw 
its  merits ;  told  the  landlady  I  should  soon  return  ;  and,  having  gone  to  a  bookseller, 
sold  it  for  sixty  pounds.  I  brought  Goldsmith  the  money  and  he  discharged  his 
rent,  not  without  rating  his  landlady  in  a  high  tone  for  having  used  him  so  ill."— • 
e  of  Johnson. 


GOLDSMITH,     COWPER. 

of  Honeywood,  whose  house  and  person  they  have  seized. 
But  in  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  we  have  a  choice  specimen  of 
the  comedy  of  intrigue,  where  the  interest  mainly. depends 
upon  a  tissue  of  lively  and  farcical  incidents,  and  where  the 
characters,  though  lightly  sketched,  form  a  gallery  of  eccen- 
tric pictures.  The  best  proof  of  Goldsmith's  success  in  this 
piece  is  the  constancy  with  which  it  h#s  always  kept  posses- 
sion of  the  stage.  Peals  of  laughter  ever  greet  the  lively 
bustle  of  its  scenes,  the  pleasant  absurdities  of  Young  Mar- 
low,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hardcastle,  and  the  admirable  Tony 
Lumpkin. 

Among  Goldsmith's  minor  poems  The  Haunch  of  Veni- 
son deserves  special  attention  on  account  of  its  easy  narrative 
and  its  accurate  sketching  of  commonplace  society.  In  the 
poem  Retaliation,  written  as  a  reply  to  taunting  epitaphs 
on  himself,  he  has  given  portraits  of  some  of  his  distin- 
guished literary  friends,  and  he  has  painted  them  with  a 
hand  at  once  refined  and  vigorous. 

For  further  readings  on 'this  topic,  see  Irving's  Oliver  Goldsmith;  Forster's 
Life  and  Adventures  of  Oliver  Goldsmith  ;  Walter  Scott's  Life  of  Goldsmith  ;  Jf.  A. 
Review,  Vol.  XLV,  p.  91 ;  De  Quincey's  works ;  Essays  on  the  Poets,  Vol.  IX ;  Macau- 
lay's  Essays,  Vol.  VI. 

William  Cowper  (1731-1800)  is  eminently  the  poet  of  the  do- 
mestic affections,  and  the  exponent  of  that  strong  religious  feeling 
which,  towards  the  end  of  tue  eighteenth  century,  began  to  pene- 
trate and  modify  all  the  relations  of  social  life  (236-24©).  His 
story  is  singularly  sad.  He  was  of  an  ancient  and  illustrious  family, 
the  grand-nephew  of  Lord  Chancellor  Cowper.  From  his  early 
childhood  be  was  exceedingly  sensitive.  His  mother  died  when  he 
was  six  years  of  age,  and  he  was  sent  to  one  of  the  English  boarding- 
schools  where  the  bullies  were  allowed  to  abuse  the  younger  boys, 
and  there  he  was  brutally  persecuted  for  two  years.  For  seven 
years  he  was  at  the  famous  Westminster  school,  and  then  he  was 
apprenticed  to  an  attorney.  By  the  influence  of  his  friends  a  desir- 
able position  was  secured  for  him  in  the  service  of  the  House  of 
Lords  ;  but  his  sensitive  nature  was  so  terrified  at  tiie  thought  of  pre- 
senting himself  for  a  formal  examination,  that  he  fell  into  gloomy 


274  WILLIAM     COWPER. 

despondency  and  attempted  suicide.  A  short  confinement  in  an 
asylum  restored  him  from  his  insanity ;  but  he  was  so  shaken 
by  the  attack  that  he  was  unfitted  for  active  life.  Four  times 
during  his  life  madness  assailed  him,  and  his  last  six  years  were 
continually  shrouded  in  its  pitiful  gloom.  Upon  his  recovery  from 
the  first  attack  he  retired  into  the  country,  and  placed  himself 
under  the  care  of  the  family  of  Mr.  Unwin,  a  clergyman  in  Hun- 
tingdon. Cowper's  virtues  and  accomplishments  won  the  good-will 
of  the  family  circle,  and  especially  won  the  tender  and  life-long 
friendship  of  Mrs.  Unwin.  His  mind,  still  smarting  under  its 
affliction,  made  him  the  victim  6f  religious  melancholy,  and  tor- 
mented him  with  despair  concerning  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  On 
the  death  of  Mr.  Unwin,  Cowper  removed  with  the  family  to 
Olney,  where  he  became  intimately  acquainted  with  John  Isewton, 
an  eminent  clergyman.  He  led  an  easy,  quiet  life,  amusing  him- 
self with  the  flowers  and  the  landscape.  As  a  pastime  and  as  a 
means  of  escaping  from  his  melancholy,  he  wrote  a  few  hymns  for 
Newton's  collection,  and  cultivated  his  literary  taste.  The  force, 
grace,  and  originality  of  his  compositions  soon  acquired  popularity, 
and  he  pursued  as  a  profession  what  he  had  at  first  taken  up  as  a 
diversion.  His  poetical  talent  did  not  flower  until  late.  He  was 
more  than  fifty  years  of  age  when  his  first  volume  was  published. 
It  contained  long  didactic  and  satiric  poems  entitled  Table  Tall; 
The  Progress  of  Error,  Truth,  Expostulation ,  Hope,  Charity,  Conversa- 
tion, and  Retirement.  The  sale  of  his  book  was  small.  His  senti- 
ments, though  sometimes  genial,  and  always  delicate,  were  too  grave 
and  desponding  to  receive  the  popular  applause.  At  about  this  time 
Lady  Austen  formeil  his  acquaintance,  and  urged  him  to  trim  his 
pen  for  gayer  verse.  At  her  suggestion  the  famous  ballad  of  John 
Gil  pin  was  written.  She  playfully  gave  him  '•  The  Sofa "  as  a 
theme,  and  thus  started  him  in  the  composition  of  that  humorous, 
graceful,  reflective  poem.  The  Task  (23§).  His  most  laborious,  but 
least  successful  undertaking  was  the  translation  of  the  Iliad  into 
English  blank  verse.  He  justly  considered  that  the  neat  and  artificial 
style  of  Pope  had  done  scant  justice  to  the  father  of  Greek  poetry ; 
but  in  endeavoring  to  give  greater  force  and  vigor  to  his  own  ver- 
sion, he  fell  into  a  fault  of  which  Pope  could  not  be  accused,  and 
made  his  traTislation  too  harsh  and  rugged,  without  approaching 
one  whit  nearer  to  the  true  character  of  the  original. 


COW  PER,     MACPHEKSOX.  275 

The  longer  and  more  important  poems  of  Cowper  are  written 
in  an  original  manner.  They  are  a  union  of  reflection,  satire, 
description,  and  moral  declamation.  Some  of  them  are  in  blank 
verse,  while  in  others  he  employed  rhyme.  His  aim  was  to  keep 
up  a  natural  and  colloquial  style.  He  is  the  enemy  of  that  pomp 
of  diction  which  was  in  his  time  regarded  as  essential  to  poetry. 
His  pictures  of  life  and  nature,  whether  of  rural  scenery  or  of  in- 
door life,  have  not  been  surpassed  for  truth  and  picturesqueness. 
His  satirical  sketches  of  the  follies  and  absurdities  of  manners,  and 
his  indignant  denunciations  of  national  offences  against  piety  and 
morality,  are  equally  remarkable,  in  the  one  case,  for  sharpness 
and  humor,  and  in  the  other  for  a  lofty  grandeur  of  sentiment. 
The  district  in  which  he  lived  is  one  of  the  least  romantic  in 
England ;  yet  nothing  more  victoriously  proves  that  true  poetical 
genius  can  give  a  charm  and  an  interest  to  the  most  unpromising 
subjects,  than  the  fact  that  Cowper  has  communicated  to  the  level 
banks  of  the  Ouse  a  magic  that  will  never  pass  away.  The  quiet 
home  circle  of  middle  English  life,  the  tea-table,  the  newspaper, 
and  the  hearth,  have  derived  from  him  a  beauty  and  a  dignity 
which  other  men  have  failed  to  give  to  the  proudest  scenes  of 
camps  and  courts.  In  spite  of  his  morbid  religious  opinions, 
many  of  his  humorous  pieces  exhibit  an  effulgence  of  unclouded 
gayety.  His  shrewd  observation,  delicate  painting  of  nature,  and 
intense  religious  feeling  have  endeared  him  to  the  great  middle 
class  of  English  readers.  Many  of  his  shorter  lyrics  are  purely 
elegant.  Nothing  in  our  poetry  is  more  touching  and  beautiful 
than  lines  written  in  his  old  age  On  Receiving  My  Mother's 
Picture. 

Cowper's  Letters  are  famous.  They  show  the  poet  in  his  most 
amiable  light  and  invest  his  character  with  a  halo  of  goodness. 
Their  style  is  free  from  all  affectation.  They  should  be  studied 
carefully  by  all  who  would  excel  in  this  most  elegant  of  accom- 
plishments. Southey  pronounces  him  "the  best  of  English  letter- 
writers."  ~j^~~S 
«  .'• 

The  latter  half  of  the  eighteenth  century  was  remarkable  for 
several  nearly  contemporaneous  attempts  at  literary  imposture — the 
poetical  forgeries  of  Macpherson,  Chatterton,  and  Ireland.  The  first 
of  these  three  has  survived  the  ordeal  of  strict  critical  examina- 


276  MACPHERSON,     CHATTERTOX. 

tion.  James  Macpherson  (1738-1796),  originally  a  country  school- 
master, and  afterwards  in  the  service  of  the  English  and  East  India 
governments,  professed  to  have  accumulated,  in  his  travels  through 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  an  immense  mass  of  fragments  of  ancient 
poetry  composed  in  the  Gaelic  or  Erse  dialect,  common  to  that 
country  and  Ireland.  The  translations,  which  Macpherson  claimed 
to  have  made  from  the  originals,  were  coihposed  in  a  pompous  and 
declamatory  prose  (243).  Upon  their  publication  a  furious  war 
ensued  on  the  question  of  their  authenticity.  The  Highlanders, 
eager  for  the  honor  of  their  country,  declared  for  the  genuineness 
of  the  literature,  and  said  that  the  name  of  Ossian,  and  the  inci- 
dents of  the  stories,  had  been  told  in  the  familiar  traditions  of  the 
Highlands.  It  was  also  urged  in  their  support  that  Celtic  tradi- 
tions in  Ireland  strikingly  resembled  the  sentiments  of  Ossian.  The 
English  critics,  on  the  other  hand,  doubted  the  antiquity  of  the 
papers,  and  demanded  a  view  of  the  original  poems.  This  Mac- 
pherson refused  to  grant,  on  the  ground  that  he  had  been  treated 
with  indignity  by  those  who  scorned  his  pretensions.  They  then 
cited  against  him  his  plagiarisms  from  the  whole  range  of  literature, 
— from  Homer,  the  Bible,  Shakespeare,  Milton,  and  even  from  Thom- 
son. But  in  spite  of  opposition  and  ridicule  the  papers  were  trans- 
lated into  the  leading  languages  of  Europe  and  commanded  the 
wondering  attention  of  Goethe,  Hume,  and  many  other  distin- 
guished men  of  letters.  In  Germany  the  admiration  of  these  pro- 
ductions has  not  subsided.  The  conviction  lingers  there,  that  they 
were  the  work  of  some  grand  old  epic  poet.  Macpherson  accumu- 
lated a  considerable  fortune.  He  died  without  disclosing  the 
originals  of  his  professed  discoveries,  and  was  buried  in  Westminster 
Abbey. 

The  annals  of  literature  hardly  present  a  more  extraordinary 
example  of  precocious  genius  than  that  of  Thomas  Chatterton 
(1752-1770),  nor  an  instance  of  a  career  more  brief  and  melancholy 
(244).  He  was  born  in  1752,  the  son  of  a  poor  sexton  and  parish 
schoolmaster  at  Bristol ;  and  he  died,  by  suicide,  before  he  had 
completed  his  eighteenth  year.  At  eleven  years  of  age  he  produced 
verses  which  will  more  than  bear  a  comparison  with  the  early 
poems  of  any  author  ;  and  though  he  had  received  little  education 
beyond  that  of  a  parish  school,  he  conceived  the  project  of  deceiv- 
ing all  the  learned  of  his  age,  and  of  creating,  it  may  almost  be 
said,  a  whole  literature  of  the  past. 


CHATTEETON,     IRELAND.  277 

In  the  muniment  room  of  a  church  at  Bristol  there  was  a  chest 
called  Canynge's  coffer.  (Canynge  was  a  rich  citizen  who  lived  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  IV.)  The  coffer  contained  charters  and  other 
documents  connected  with  Canynge's  gifts  to  the  church.  The 
young  poet  familiarized  himself  with  the  sight  of  these  antiquated 
writings,  and  determined  to  forge  papers  that  could  be  palmed  off 
upon  the  credulous.  These  he  produced  gradually,  generally 
taking  advantage  of  some  topic  of  public  interest  to  contribute  to 
the  local  newspapers  or  to  his  acquaintances,  the  pretended  origi- 
nals, or  transcripts  of  pretended  originals,  having  some  relation  to 
the  subject  Thus,  on  the  opening  of  a  new  bridge  over  the  Avon, 
he  produced  an  account  of  processions,  tournaments,  religious 
solemnities,  and  other  ceremonies  which  had  taken  place  on  the 
opening  of  the  old  bridge.  To  Mr.  Burguin,  a  pewterer  of  the 
town  who  had  a  taste  for  heraldry,  he  gave  a  pedigree  reaching 
back  to  William  the  Conqueror.  Horace  Wai  pole  was  then  writing 
his  anecdotes  of  British  Painters,  and  Chatterton  furnished  him 
with  a  long  list  of  mediaeval  artists  who  had  flourished  in  Bristol. 
Besides  these  documents  he  claimed  to  have  discovered  old  poems 
in  the  chest.  They  are  of  great  variety  and  unquestionable  merit ; 
and  though  modern  criticism  will  instantly  detect  in  them  the  most 
glaring  marks  of  forgery,  yet  their  brilliancy  and  their  number 
were  enough  to  deceive  many  learned  scholars  in  an  age  when 
minute  antiquarian  knowledge  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  much  rarer 
than  at  present  In  his  eagerness  to  incrust  hia  diction  with  the 
rust  of  antiquity,  he  overlays  his  words  with  such  an  accumulation 
of  consonants  as  belong  to  the  orthography  of  no  age  of  our 
language.  He  has  also,  as  was  inevitable,  sometimes  made  a  slip  in 
the  use  of  an  eld  word,  as  when  he  borrowed  the  expression  mortmal 
found  in  Chaucer's  description  of  the  Cook,  he  employed  it  to 
signify,  not  a  disease,  the  gangrene,  but  a  dish.  Burning  with 
pride,  hope,  and  literary  ambition,  the  unhappy  lad  betook  himself 
to  London,  where,  after  struggling  a  short  time  with  distress,  and 
almost  with  starvation,  he  poisoned  himself  on  the  25th  of  August, 
1770.  Singularly  enough  his  acknowledged  poems,  though  indi- 
cating very  great  powers,  are  manifestly  inferior  to  those  he  wrote 
in  the  assumed  character  of  Thomas  Rowley. 

William  Henry  Ireland  (1777-1835)  deserves  mention  only  on 
account  of  his  Shakespearean  forgeries,  imposed  upon  the  public 


278  IRELAND,     CRABBE. 

•while  he  was  yet  a  boy.  Their  success  was  due  entirely  to  his  skill 
in  imitating  old  handwriting,  and  to  the  credulousness  and  the 
stupidity  of  those  who  were  deceived  by  his  work.  He  was  soon 
compelled  to  acknowledge  his  guilt. 

George  Crabbe  (1754-1832)  is  the  poet  of  the  passions  in 
humble  life.  Byron  calls  him  "Nature's  sternest  painter,  yet  the 
best."  He  was  born  at  the  little  seaport  town  of  Aldborough  in 
Suffolk,  where  his  father  was  a  collector  of  customs ;  and  after  a 
dreamy  and  studious  childhood,  he  was  apprenticed  to  a  surgeon 
and  apothecary.  Passionately  fond  of  literature,  he  determined  to 
seek  his  fortune  in  London,  carrying  with  him  several  unfinished 
poems.  After  many  disappointments  he  found  himself  reduced  to 
despair;  when  he  addressed  a  manly  and  affecting  letter  to  Edmund 
Burke,  who  immediately  admitted  him  to  his  house  and  his  friend- 
ship. From  this  time  Crabbe's  fortune  changed ;  he  was  assisted,  both 
with  money  and  advice,  in  bringing  out  his  poem  of  The  Library, 
was  induced  to  enter  the  Church,  and  was  promised  the  powerful 
influence  of  Lord  Chancellor  Thurlow.  He  became  domestic 
chaplain  to  the  Duke  of  Rutland ;  but  after  marriage  with  a  young 
lady  to  whom  he  had  been  long  attached,  he  changed  his  position 
for  the  humbler  but  more  independent  life  of  a  parish  priest,  and 
in  this  occupation  he  continued  until  his  death. 

It  was  not  till  the  appearance  of  The  Village,  in  1783,  that 
Crabbe  struck  out  that  path  in  which  he  had  neither  predecessor 
nor  rival.  The  success  of  this  poem  was  great,  for  it  was  the  first 
attempt  to  paint  the  manners  and  existence  of  the  laboring  class, 
without  dressing  them  -up  in  the  artificial  colors  of  fiction.  In  his 
next  work,  The  Parish  Register  (246),  the  public  saw  the  gradual 
ripening  of  his  vigorous  and  original  genius;  and  this  was  followed, 
at  comparatively  short  intervals,  by  The  Borough,  Tales  in  Verse, 
and  Tales  of  the  Hall.  These,  with  the  striking  but  painful  poems, 
written  in  a  different  measure,  entitled  Sir  Eustace  Grey  and  The 
Hall  of  Justice,  make  up  Crabbe's  large  and  valuable  contribution 
to  the  poetical  literature  of  his  country.  Almost  all  these  works 
are  constructed  upon  a  peculiar  and  generally  similar  plan.  Crabbe 
starts  with  some  description,  as  of  the  Village,  the  Parish  Church, 
the  Borough,  from  which  he  naturally  proceeds  to  deduce  a  series 
of  separate  episodes,  usually  of  middle  and  humble  life,  appro- 
priate to  the  leading  idea.  Thus  in  The  Parish  Register  we  havo 


C  R  A  B  B  E  ,     MORE.  279 

the  most  remarkable  births,  marriages,  and  deaths  that  are  sup- 
posed to  take  place  in  a  year  amid  a  rural  population ;  in  The 
Borough  (245)  we  have  the  lives  and  adventures  of  the  most  promi- 
nent characters  that  figure  on  the  narrow  stage  of  a  small  provincial 
town.  With  the  exception  of  Sir  Eustace  Grey  and  2  he  Hall  of 
Justice,  which  are  written  in  a  short-lined  stanza,  Crabbe's  poems 
are  in  heroic  verse.  The  contrast  is  strange  between  the  neat  Pope- 
like  regularity  of  the  metre,  and  the  deep  passion,  the  intense 
reality,  and  the  quaint  humor  of  the  scenes  displayed.  No  poet 
has  more  subtly  traced  the  motives  which  regulate  human  conduct. 
His  descriptions  of  nature,  too,  are  marked  by  power  of  rendering 
interesting  the  most  unattractive  features  of  the  external  world, 
by  the  sheer  force  of  truth  and  exactness.  The  village-tyrant, 
the  poacher,  the  smuggler,  the  miserly  old  maid,  the  pauper,  and 
the  criminal,  are  drawn  with  the  same  vivid  force  that  paints  the 
squalid  streets  of  the  fishing-town,  or  the  fen,  the  quay,  and  the  heath. 
The  movement  in  the  direction  of  greater  freedom  can  be 
detected  in  many  minor  poets  of  the  time;  and  its  influence  is 
nowhere  more  noticeable  than  in  the  fact  that,  towards  the  close  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  woman,  who  had  been  shamefully  illiterate 
in  the  preceding  generation,  wins  respect  in  the  walks  of  literature. 
Hannah  More  (1745-1833)  was  the  most  influential  writer  of  her 
sex.  Johnson  considered  her  the  best  of  "  female  versifiers,"  but 
her  prose  is  equal,,  if  not  superior,  to  her  verse.  She  was  the 
daughter  of  a  schoolmaster  in  Gloucestershire.  Her  first  works 
were  dramatic.  The  Search  after  Happiness,  written  at  the  age  of 
sixteen,  The  Inflexible  Captive,  written  a  year  later,  and  a  few  of  her 
tales,  had  given  her  so.  good  a  name  that  when  she  removed  to 
London,  at  about  her  twenty-eighth  year,  she  was  admitted  to  the 
literary  circle  of  Johnson  and  Burke.  A  volume  of  her  Poems  was 
published  in  1788,  portions  of  which  were  termed  by  Johnson  a 
great  performance.  Becoming  weary  of  the  life  of  London,  she 
removed  to  Bristol.  There  her  pen  was  busy, — prose  and  poetry 
flowing  from  it  constantly.  Her  tales  against  Jacobins  and  Level- 
lers reached  a  circulation  of  a  million.  Her  best  known  works 
are — Thoughts  on  the  Manners  of  the  Great,  1788 ;  On  Female  Educa- 
tion, 1799;  Calebs  in  Search  of  a  Wife,  1809;  and  Practical  Piety, 
1811.  "She  did,  perhaps,  as  much  real  good  in  her  generation 
as  any  woman  that  ever  held  a  pen." 


280  MORE,      SHERIDAN. 

Mrs.  More's  *  style  is  flowing,  and  often  sparkles  with  the  light 
of  a  pleasant  humor.  Her  later  works  are  of  a  more  sombre  cast, 
from  the  deeper  impressions  which  religion  seemed  to  be  making 
upon  her.  Ccdebs  is  perhaps  the  chief  of  her  works — a  fiction  of 
much  beauty  in  style,  with  a  mixture  of  quiet  irony;  the  plot  is 
well  evolved,  but  the  characters  are  too  few,  and  the  incidents  too 
tame,  to  make  it  in  the  present  day  a  readable  book.  It  has  been 
called  a  "  dramatic  sermon." 

A  comic  drama  appeared  contemporaneously  with  the  more 
romantic  poetry.  With  a  single  exception  its  writers  were  men 
•who  failed  of  an  enduring  fame.  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan 
(1751-1816)  was  a  genius  of  versatile  and  brilliant  powers.  He 
was  famous  as  a  parliamentary  orator ;  but  his  highest  fame  was 
achieved  as  a  dramatist.  Byron  says  that  "the  intellectual  reputa- 
tion of  Sheridan  was  jtruly  enviable,  that  he  had  made  the  best 
speech— that  on  the/Bigums  of  "Du^jf- written  the  two  best  come- 
dies, The  Rivals  anaTKe  'ScTioolJorScandal  (253)  the  best  opera, 
The  Duenna,  and  the  best  farce,  Tin  Critic.'11  His  career  was  extrav- 
agant and  imprudent.  The  ingenious  shifts  by  which  he  endeav- 
ored to  stave  off  his  embarrassments,  and  the  jokes  with  which  he 
disarmed  even  his  angriest  creditors,  would  furnish  materials  for  a 
most  amusing  jest-book.  His  repartees  and  witticisms  made  him 
the  darling  of  society.  He  died  in  poverty,  but  was  buried  with 
princely  pomp. 

*  Hannah  More,  though  never  married,  was  in  her  own  day,  and  still  is  named 
Mrs.  More.  This  title  she  acquired,  in  her  dignified  years,  according  to  a  courts 
ous  custom  then  observed  in  England. 


BURNS.  281 


ROBERT  BURNS. 

"  Burns  is  by  far  the  greatest  poet  that  ever  sprung  from  the  bosom  of  the 
people  and  lived  and  died  in  an  humble  condition." — Professor  (John)  Wilson. 

"  O  he  was  a  good-looking  fine  fellow  !— he  was  that ;  rather  black  an'  ill- 
colored;  but  he  couldna  help  that,  ye  ken.  He  was  a  strong,  manly-looking  chap; 
nane  o'  your  skilpit  milk-and-water  dandies :  but  a  sterling,  substantial  fellow,  who 
wadna  hae  feared  the  deil  suppose  he  had  met  him.  An'  then  siccan  an  ee  he  had !" 
— Memoir  of  Bums. 

"  His  person  was  strong  and  robust,  his  manners  rustic,  not  clownish ;  a  sort  of 
dignified  plainness  and  simplicity  which  received  part  of  its  effect  perhaps  from 
one's  knowledge  of  his  extraordinary  talents.  .  .  .  I  think  his  countenance  was 

more  massive  than  it  looks  in  any  of  the  portraits There  was  a  strong 

expression  of  sense  and  shrewdness  in  all  his  lineaments;  the  eye  alone,  I  think, 
indicated  the  poetical  temperament.  It  was  large  and  of  a  dark  cast,  and  glowed  (I 
say  literally  glowed)  when  he  spoke  with  feeling  or  interest.  I  never  saw  such 
another  eye  in  a  human  head,  though  I  have  seen  the  most  distinguished  men  in  my 
time.  His  conversation  expressed  perfect  self-confidence  without  the  slightest 
presumption."—  Sir  Walter  Scott. 

"  None  but  the  most  narrow-minded  bigots  think  of  his  errors  and  frailties  but 
with  sympathy  and  indulgence  ;  none  but  the  blindest  enthusiasts  can  deny  their 
existence." — James  Hogg. 

"  He  has  in  all  his  compositions  great  force  of  conception,  and  great  spirit  and 
animation  in  its  expression.  He  has  taken  a  large  range  through  the  region  of 
Fancy,  and  naturalized  himself  in  all  her  climates." — Francis  Jeffrey. 

"  As  a  poet  Burns  stands  in  the  front  rank.  His  conceptions  are  all  original ;  his 
thoughts  are  new  and  weighty ;  his  style  unborrowed  ;  and  he  owes  no  honor  to  the 
subjects  which  his  muse  selected,  for  they  are  ordinary,  and  such  as  would  have 
tempted  no  poet,  save  himself,  to  sing  about." — Allan  Cunningham. 

The  greatest  poet  that  Scotland  has  produced  is  Robert 
Burns  (1759-1796)  (247-251).  He  was  born  at  the 
hamlet  of  Alloway  in  Ayrshire,  and  was  the  son  of  a  peasant 
farmer  of  the  humblest  class.  Popular  education  at  that 
period  was  diffused  in  Scotland  more  generally  than  in  any 
other  country  of  Europe;  and  Burns  received  the  train- 
ing of  the  common  school.  Impelled  by  his  eagerness 
for  knowledge  he  early  became  acquainted  with  some 
of  the  masterpieces  of  English  literature.  In  this  way  he 


282  BURNS. 

acquired  the  pure  diction  of  classical  English  authors,  and 
was  able  to  use  it  with  perfect  facility  when  he  took  up  the 
poet's  pen.  The  Spectator,  and  the  volumes  of  Pope,  Thom- 
son, Shenstone  and  Sterne  were  on  the  shelf  in  his  cabin. 
His  early  years  were  spent  in  laboring  as  a  peasant  on  his 
father's  farm.  In  the  correspondence  of  his  later  years  he 
says:  "This  kind  of  life,  the  cheerless  gloom  of  a  hermit, 
with  the  unceasing  moil  of  a  galley-slave,  brought  me  to 
my  sixteenth  year,  when  love  made  me  a  poet."  His  "  first 
performance,"  the  song  of  Handsome  Nell,  revealed  to  him 
a  talent  by  whose  use  lie  drove  away  some  of  the  gloom  of 
his  youth.  "When  his  muse  would  not  help  him  in  writing 
the  song,  she  gave  him  expression  for  the  satire,  the  revery, 
or  the  poetic  epistle.  Until  his  twenty-eighth  year  he  con- 
tinued his  weary  struggle  against  poverty.  He  was  driven 
from  one  farm  to  another  in  his  desperate  attempts  to  im- 
prove his  condition.  At  last,  in  despair,  he  determined  to 
cross  the  ocean,  and  seek  his  fortune  in  the  West  Indies. 
In  order  to  raise  funds  for  the  voyage  he  was  induced  to 
publish  poems  which  had  won  the  heartiest  local  applause. 
The  sale  of  the  volume  brought  him  twenty  guineas.  Out 
of  the  money  he  bought  his  passage  and  awaited  the  sailing 
of  his  ship.  On  the  last  night  that  he  expected  to  be  in 
Scotland,  he  wrote  what,  he  said,  should  be  the  last  song  he 
would  ever  measure  in  Caledonia, — "  The  gloomy  night  is 
gathering  fast."  But  the  clouds  broke  with  the  dawn ;  for 
a  letter  from  a  poetical  critic  gave  him  encouragement  that 
an  edition  of  his  poems  would  be  received  with  favor  in 
Edinburgh.  The  voyage  was  abandoned.  His  own  words 
are  :  "  I  immediately  posted  to  Edinburgh,  without  a  single 
acquaintance  or  letters  of  introduction.  The. baneful  star 
which  had  so  long  shed  its  blasting  influence  upon  my 
zenith,  for  once  made  a  revolution  to  the  nadir."  But  he 
needed  no  letters  of  introduction.  His  songs  had  gone 
before  him.  The  literary  and  the  gay  of  the  Capital  wel- 


BURNS.  283 

co.med  the  singer.  The  new  edition  of  his  poems  was  re- 
ceived with  an  enthusiasm  that  made  "The  Ayrshire 
Ploughman  "  the  lion  of  the  town.*  This  success  put  money 
in  his  purse ;  and  be  was  able  to  gratify  his  intense  desire 
to  see  the  celebrated  scenery,  and  the  places  of  historical 
interest  in  his  native  country.  After  spending  the  summer 
of  1787  in  travel,  he  returned  to  Edinburgh  with  the 
reasonable  expectation  of  securing  from  those  whose  praises 
and  friendship  he  had  won,  such  employment  as  would 
enable  him  to  devote  some  of  his  time  to  his  muse.  While 
waiting  for  their  help  he  jofhed  in  their  convivial  revelries. 
His  social  nature  led  him  into  intemperance.  When  his 
money  was  gone,  and  he  was  compelled  to  find  support,  a 
place  was  given  him  as  a  gauger  of  liquors  in  his  old  district. 
He  rented  a  farm  and  lived  upon  a  meagre  income.  Now 
his  spirit  was  buoyant  and  gleeful,  now  despondent.  His 
strong  constitution,  undermined  by  excesses,  soon  broke 
down,  and  the  poet  died  at  Dumfries,  in  the  thirty-seventh 
year  of  his  age. 

The  highest  poetical  qualities — tenderness  the  most  ex- 
quisite, humor  the  broadest  and  most  refined,  the  most 
delicate  perception  of  natural  beauty,  the  highest  finish  and 
the  easiest  negligence  of  style,  are  found  in  the  writings  of 
Burns,  They  are  chiefly  lyrics  of  inimitable  charm ;  but 


*  "It  needs  no  effort  of  the  imagination  to  conceive  what  the  sensations  of  an 
isolated  set  of  scholars  (almost  all  either  clergymen  or  professors)  must  have  been 
in  the  presence  of  this  hig-boned,  black-browed,  brawny  stranger,  with  his  great 
flashing  eyes,  who,  having  forced  his  way  among  them  from  the  plough-tail,  at  a 
single  stride,  manifested  in  the  whole  strain  of  his  bearing  and  conversation,  a  most 
thorough  conviction  that  in  the  society  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  his  nation,  he 
was  exactly  where  he  was  entitled  to  be  ;  hardly  deigned  to  flatter  them  by  exhibit- 
ing even  an  occasional  symptom  of  being  flattered  by  the"ir  notice  ;  by  turns  calmly 
measured  himself  against  the  most  cultivated  understandings  of  his  time,  in  discus- 
eion  ;  overpowered  the  bon  mots  of  the  most  celebrated  convivialists  by  broad  floods 
of  merriment,  impregnated  with  all  the  burning  life  of  genius. ;  astounded  bosoms 
habitually  enveloped  in  the  thrice-piled  folds  of  social  reserve,  by  compelling  them 
to  tremble— nay,  to  tremble  visibly— beneath  the  fearless  touch  of  natural  pathos." — 
Lockhart. 


284  B  u  R  x  s . 

he  has  also  written  entrancing  narrative  and  most  intense 
satire.  The  variety  of  his  poetic  talent  is  best  displayed  in 
(Tarn  O'Shanter}  In  no  other  poem  of  the  same  length  can 
there  be  found  a  blending  of  so  much  brilliant  description, 
touching  pathos,  and  quaint,  sly  humor;  nor  is  there  else- 
where in  our  literature  such  a  combination  of  the  terrific 
and  the  ludicrous.  Another  inimitable  poem,  half-narrative, 
but  set  thick  with  glorious  songs,  is  the  Jolly  Beggars : 
careless  vagabond  jollity,  roaring  mirth  and  gipsy  merri- 
ment, have  never  been  better  expressed.  In  his  Address  to 
the  De'il,  Death  and  Dr.  Hornfook,  The  Two,  Dogs,  and  the 
dialogue  between  the  Old  and  New  Bridges  of  Ayr,  Burns 
gives  us  humorous  and  picturesque  description  with  reflec- 
tions and  thoughtful  moralizing  upon  life  and  society.  In 
the  poem  descriptive  of  rustic  fortune-telling  on  Halloween, 
in  the  Vision  of  Liberty,  where  Burns  gives  such  a  sublime 
picture  of  his  own  early  aspirations,  in  the  unequalled  sor- 
row that  breathes  through  the  Lament  for  Glencairn,  in 
Scotch  Drink,  the  Haggis,  the  epistles  to  Captain  Grose  and 
Matthew  Henderson,  in  the  exquisite  description  of  the 
death  of  the  old  ewe  Mailie,  and  the  poet's  address  to  his 
old  mare,  we  find  the  same  prevailing  mixture  of  pathos  and 
humor,  that  truest  pathos  which  finds  its  materials  in  the 
common  every-day  objects  of  life,  and  that  truest  humor 
which  is  allied  to  the  deepest  feeling,  The  famous  lines 
On  Turning  up  a  Mouse's  Nest  with  the  Plough,  and  on 
destroying  in  the  same  way  a  Mountain  Daisy,  will  ever 
remain  among  the  gems  of  poetr}T.  The  Dialogue  between 
the  Two,  Dogs  is  an  elaborate  comparison  of  the  relative 
degrees  of  virtue  and  happiness  granted  to  the  rich  and  the 
poor.  His  description  of  the  joys  and  consolations  of  the 
poor  man's  lot  is  perhaps  even  more  beautiful  in  this  poem 
than  in  the  more  generally  popular^Cb^-'s  Saturday  Night  ) 
(25 1 ).  Certainly  there  has  never  been  a  tribute  paid  t(K 


B  u  K  x  s .  285 

the  virtues  of  the  poor,  nobler  than  has  been  given  by  Burns 
in  these  two  poems. 

Those  of  Burns's  songs  that  are  written  in  pure  English, 
in  some  instances  have  a  pretentious  air.  But  there  is  no 
affectation  in  his  verse  when  it  flows  in  the  rhythms  of  his 
native  dialect.  The  list  of  subjects  adapted  to  the  pur- 
pose of  the  song- writer  is  always  very  limited — love,  patriot- 
ism, and  pleasure,  constitute  the  whole.  In  the  song  Ae 
Fond  Kiss  and  then  we  Part  is  concentrated  the  whole 
essence  of  a  thousand  love-poems ;  the  heroic  outbreak  of 
patriotism  in  Scots  wlia  liae  wi'  Wallace  Ued  is  a  lyric  of 
most  stirring  force ;  and  in  those  of  a  calmer  and  more 
lamenting  character,  as  Ye  Banks  and  Braes,  there  is  the 
finest  union  of  personal  sentiment  with  the  most  complete 
assimilation  of  the  poet's  mind  to  the  loveliness  of  external 
nature. 


REMARKS  ON  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  EIGHTEENTH 
CENTURY. 

In  reviewing  the  literature  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  student 
will  be  reminded  that  it  contains  the  most  powerful  satire  and  the 
most  elegant  light  essays  that  have  been  produced.  In  it  the  first 
great  works  of  fiction,  the  first  distinctively  pronounced  scepticism, 
the  first  carefully  written  histories,  are  found  flowing  from  the 
pens  of  Englishmen.  In  it,  too,  our  poetry  of  the  fireside  was 
first  sung. 

The  literature  of  the  century  may  be  divided  into  three  eras, 
and  they  are  distinctly  marked  :  I.  The  Augustan  Age ;  so  it  was 
called  by  the  men  of  the  next  generation,  who  felt  that  in  it  English 
literature  had  reached  such  paramount  excellence  as  the  literature 
of  Rome  attained  in  the  age  of  Augustus.  It  closes  with  the  reign 
of  George  I.  The  attitude  of  the  government  towards  literary  men 
was  somewhat  changed  at  the  accession  of  George  II. ;  a  few  writers 
of  note  appeared  at  that  time,  and  at  about  that  time  some  of  the 
bright  stars  of  the  Augustan  galaxy  disappeared. — II.  The  Reign 


286  THE     EIGHTEENTH     CENTURY. 

of  George  II.  (1727-1760).  It  was  not  illumined  by  such  brilliant 
men  as  Newton  and  Addison.  There  was  less  of  elegance,  but 
there  was  gain  in  seriousness.  There  was  more  earnest  questioning 
than  in  the  former  age.  Men  were  no  longer  satisfied  with  attack- 
ing the  advocates  of  principles,  they  attacked  the  principles  them- 
selves. Hume  published  his  philosophical  essays,  startled  his 
readers  by  the  audacity  of  his  questioning,  and  prepared  the  way 
for  study  of  German  philosophy  and  scepticism.  His  example  led 
the  thinkers  of  a  later  generation  to  study  Kant  and  to  recognize 
German  thought  and  literature.  He  also  alarmed  the  theologians, 
so  that  they  took  up  weapons  of  defence,  and  fought  for  the  honor 
of  English  religious  opinions,  and  for  the  sacredness  of  the  Scrip- 
ture record.  A  reaction  from  the  boldly  pronounced  scepticism 
called  forth  earnest  reformers.  They  demanded  practical  as  well 
as  theoretical  deference  to  Christ's  teachings.  In  sermon  and 
treatise  and  song,  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield  and  Watts  charmed 
the  saintly,  and  terrified  the  sinful.  They  created  a  demand  for 
simple,  fervent  religious  literature.  The  progressive  seriousness 
shows  itself  in  the  essays  that  would  rival  the  glory  of  the  Specta- 
tor, in  the  philosophy  that  would  secure  firm  foundation  for  the 
religious  faith  of  the  intellectual  man,  and,  where  it  would  be  least 
expected,  even  in  the  poetry  that  is  imitative  of  Pope. — III.  The 
Reign  of  George  III.  (1760-1820).  Here  we  find  a  poetry  simpler 
than  in  either  of  the  preceding  generations.  The  song  gave  thrill- 
ing and  laughing  echoes.  The  imagination  was  revived,  and  poetic 
life  was  healthful.  Philosophy  turned  the  seriousness  to  practical 
account. 

The  century  of  literature  under  consideration  was  superficial 
in  its  thinking,  and  held  itself  in  high  esteem.*  But  it  had  a 
record  to  be  pleased  with  ;  for  it  was  opening  new  lines  of  literary 
work,  and  was  producing  earnest  and  original  thinkers. 

That  century  was  the  formative  period  of  English  prose  style. 
It  developed  two  distinct  modes  of  literary  expression.  The  first  in 
order  of  time  and  in  excellence  is  the  style  approaching  the  diction 
and  idioms  of  elegant  conversation.  Addison  is  its  best  representa- 

*  The  poor  eighteenth  century  was  critical,  negative,  and  unpoetic.  ...  It 
was  one  of  those  seasons  of  comparative  diminution  of  the  general  vital  energy  of 
our  species.'1— Massori*8  Essays,  p.  350. 


f"  Alexander  Popt, 

THE  ARTIFICIAL  POETS  \  if?1"*  °ay,    . 
of  the  first  half  of  the     I  Matthew  Pnor, 
Eighteenth  Century.      (  Edward  YounS' 


PROSE  WRITERS 

of  the  first  half  of  the 
Eighteenth  Century. 


THE  FIRST 

GREAT  JiUVELISTS. 


THE  FIHST 

GREAT  HISTORIANS. 


KTHICAL,  POLITICAL, 

THEOLOGICAL  WRITERS 

ofth",  latter  half  of  the 

Eighteenth  Century. 


THE   DAWN   OF 

ROMANTIC  POETRY. 


Joseph  Addison, 

Richard  Steele, 

Jonathan  Swift, 

John  Arbuthnot, 

Henry  St.  John,  Viscount  Bolingbroke. 

George  Berkeley, 

Mary  Wortley  Montagu. 

f  Daniel  Defoe, 

Samuel  Richardson, 
-j  Henry  Fielding, 

Tobias  George  Smollett, 
(.  Laurence  Sterne. 

(David  Hume, 
William  Robertson, 
Edward  Gibbon. 

Samuel  Johnson, 
Edmund  Burke, 
Adam  Smith, 
Sir  William  Blackstone, 
.  William  Paley. 

f  James  Thomson, 

William  Collins, 

Thomas  Gray, 

Mark  Akenside, 

William  Shenstone, 

Joseph  Warton, 
-I  Thomas  Warton, 

[Oliver  Goldsmith], 

William  Cowper,  f  James  Macpherson, 

The  Literary  Impostors  1  Thomas  Chatterton, 

Oeortrc  Crabbe.  [  William  Henry  Irelan 

[Hannah  More] , 
I.  [Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan] . 


ROBERT   BURNS. 


THE     EIGHTEENTH     CENTURY.  287 

tive.  The  second  style  seeks  harmonies  of  sound,  avoids  elliptical 
idioms,  is  scholastic,  and  is  based  upon  the  idea  that  there  must  be 
more  dignity  in  writing  than  in  the  best  speaking.  Johnson  is  its 
best  exponent  and  champion.  The  former  style  is  English;  the 
latter  is  Latinic.  They  are  both  influencing  the  writing  of  our  own 
time  ;  but  the  simpler  method  commands  the  higher  approval. 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

WALTER    SCOTT. 


"  Blessings  and  prayers  in  nobler  retinue 
Than  sceptred  king  or  laurelled  conqueror  knows, 
Follow  this  wondrous  potentate.'' — William  Wordsworth. 


FTIHE  great  revolution  in  literary  taste  which  substituted 
-L  romantic  for  classical  sentiment  and  subject,  and  cul- 
minated in  the  poems  and  novels  of  Walter  Scott,  is  trace- 
able to  the  labors  of  Bishop  Thomas  Percy  (1728-1811). 
In  1765  he  published  a  collection  of  old  ballads  under  the 
title  of  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry.  Many  of  these 
ballads  had  been  preserved  only  in  manuscript,  and  others 
had  been  printed  on  loose  sheets  in  the  rudest  manner  for 
circulation  among  the  lower  orders  of  people.  Many 
authors  before  him,  as,  for  instance,  Addison  and  Sir 
Philip  Sidney,  had  expressed  the  admiration  which  cul- 
tivated taste  must  ever  feel  for  the  rude,  but  inimitable 
charms  of  the  old  ballad-poets ;  but  Percy  was  the  first  who 
undertook  a  systematic  and  general  examination  of  the 
neglected  treasures.  He  found,  in  collecting  these  compo- 
sitions, that  the  majority  of  the  oldest  and  most  interesting 
were  distinctly  traceable,  both  as  regards  their  subjects  and 
their  dialect,  to  the  Xorth  Countree,  that  is,  to  the  frontier 
region  between  England  and  Scotland  which  had  been  the 
scene  of  the  most  striking  incidents  of  predatory  warfare, 
such  as  those  recorded  in  the  noble  ballads  of  Chery  Chase 


V  A  L  T  E  R     SCOTT.  289 

and  the  Battle  of  Otterburn.  Besides  a  very  large  number  of 
these  purely  heroic  ballads,  Percy  gave  specimens  of  songs 
and  lyrics  extending  down  to  a  comparatively  late  period 
of  English  history,  even  to  his  own  century.  But  the  chiel 
interest  of  his  collection,  and  the  chief  service  he  rendered 
to  literature  by  his  publication,  is  in  the  earlier  portion.  It 
is  impossible  to  exaggerate  the  influence  exerted  by  the 
Reliques.  This  book  has  been  studied  with  the  most  in- 
tense interest  by  generation  after  generation  of  English 
poets,  and  undoubtedly  has  contributed  to  give  the  first 
direction  to  the  youthful  genius  of  man£  of  our  most  illus- 
trious writers.  The  boyish  enthusiasm  of  Walter  Scott  was 
stirred  by  the  vivid  recitals  of  the  old  Border  rhapsodists. 
Percy's  volumes  *  gave  him  the  sentiment  that  culminated 
in  thefltody  of  the  Lak&  and  in  }Yaverley. 

^X)ur  literary  historypresents  few  examples  of  a  career  so 

brilliant  as  that  of  Walter  Scott  (254-203). 

B  1771 1    •  "       '      ' 

'J  A  genius  at  once  so  vigorous  and  versatile,  a  pro- 
ductiveness so  magnificent  and  so  sustained, 
will  with  difficulty  be  found,  though  we  ransack  the  wide 
realms  of  ancient  and  modern  letters/''  He  was  connected, 
both  by  the  father's  and  mother's  side,  with  several  of  those 
ancient, historic  Border-families  whose  warlike  memories  his 
genius  was  destined  to  make  immortal.  In  consequence  of 
delicate  health  in  early  life  he  passed  much  of  his  time  at 
the  farm  of  his  grandfather  near  Kelso.  where  he  was  sur- 
rounded with  legends,  ruins,  and  historic  localities.  He 
was  afterwards  sent  to  the  High-School,  and  then  to  the 
University  of  Edinburgh.  He  was  not  distinguished  as  a 
student;  but  among  his  fellows  he  was  famous  for  his 
talent  in  telling  stories.  After  leaving  the  University,  he 


*  "  The  first  time  I  could  scrape  a  few  shillings  together— which  were  not  com- 
mon occurrences  with  me— I  bought  unto  myself  a  copy  of  these  beloved  volumes : 
nor  do  I  believe  I  ever  read  a  book  half  so  frequently,  or  with  half  the  enthusiasm." 
—Scott,  in  LockharCt  Life. 


290  WALTER     SCOTT. 

entered  the  profession  of  the  law.  It  had  little  charm  for 
him.  English,  German,  and  Italian  authors  easily  won  him 
away  from  his  law-books.  The  direction  of  his  mind  was 
towards  the  poetical  and  antiquarian  works  of  the  Middle 
Ages;  but  just  at  that  time  there  had  been  awakened  in  the 
intellectual  circles  of  Edinburgh  a  taste  for  German  litera- 
ture. Scott's  first  appearance  as  an  author  was  in  trans- 
lations from  Burger.  Scott  was  now  residing  with  his 
young  wife  at  Lass  wade.  He  formed  the  purpose  of  res- 
cuing from  oblivion  the  large  stores  of  Border  ballads  still 
current  among  ihe  descendants  of  the  Liddesdale  and 
Annandale  moss-troopers,  and  he  travelled  into  those  pic- 
turesque regions  where  he  not  only  gathered  a  vast  treasure 
of  unedited  legends,  but  also  made  himself  familiar  with 
the  scenery  and  manners  of  that  country  over  which  he  was 
to  cast  the  magic  of  his  genius.  Three  volumes  of  the 
Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border  were  soon  published.  The 
learning  and  taste  of  this  work  gave  Scott  a  high  reputa- 
tion. His  success  was  tempting  him  to  abandon  the  pro- 
fession of  the  law  altogether,  and  to  devote  himself  to 
literature,  when  an  appointment  as  Sheriff  of  Selkirkshire 
brought  him  to  a  decision.  He  changed  his  residence  to  a 
pleasant  farm  at  Ashestiel  on  the  Tweed,  and  six  years  after 
he  appeared  before  the  public  as  an  original  romantic  poet. 
In  1805(  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstreljw&s  published.  In 
rapid  succession  to}\owe^farmwn^^he  Lady  of  the  LakeJ 
(fiokeby)an([(TJie  Lord  of  me  /s/e^not  to  enumerate  many  less 
important  works,  such  as  The  Vision  of  Don  Roderick,  The 
Bridal  of  Triermain,  Harold  the  Dauntless,  and  The  Field 
of  Waterloo.  ^"We  cannot  overstate  the  rapture  of  enthu- 
siasm with  which  these  poems  were  received,  They  were 
written  rapidly  and  with  unstinted  freshness.  With  Rolccby 
the  popularity  of  Scott's  poetry,  though  still  very  great, 
perceptibly  declined.  This  may  have  been  due  in  part  to 
the  fact  that  he  was  not  fortunate  in  the  choice  of  the 


WALTER     SCOTT.  291 

theme  for  that  poem,  and  in  part  to  the  eclipsing  glory  of 
Byron's  genius.  Aware  of  the  declining  public  favor,  he 
immediately  and  quietly  abandoned  poetry  to  enter  the  field 
of  the  novelist,  where  he  could  stand  without  a  rival. 

Nine  years  earlier,  Waverley  had  been  sketched  out  and 
thrown  aside.  In  1814  it  was  published  without  the 
author's  name, — the  first  of  the  inimitable  Waverley  Novels. 
The  town  and  the  country  were  wild  in  its  praise,  and  all 
were  curious  to  know  who  the  writer  might  be.  The  secret 
was  long  kept.  During  the  seventeen  years  between  1814 
and  1831  he  wrote  the  long  series  of  novels,  and  wrote  them 
with  such  inconceivable  facility,  that,  on  an  average,  two  of 
the  works  appeared  in  one  year.  During  this  same  period 
he  also  published  many  works  in  the  departments  of  history, 
criticism,  and  biography ;  among  them,  A  Life  of  Napoleon, 
the  Tales  of  a  Grandfather,  the  amusing  Letters  on  Demon- 
ology  and  Witchcraft,  and  extensive  editions,  with  lives,  of 
Dryden  and  Swift,  Such  activity  is  rare  indeed  in  the 
history  of  letters;  still  rarer,  when  combined  with  such 
general  excellence  in  the  products.  The  impulse  to  this 
prodigious  industry  was  Scott's  passionate  and  long- 
cherished  ambition  to  found  a  territorial  family,  and  to  be 
able  to  live  the  life  of  a  provincial  magnate.  In  1811  he 
had  purchased  about  one  hundred  acres  of  land  on  the 
banks  of  the  Tweed,  and  now,  encouraged  by  the  immense 
profits  accruing  from  his  works,  he  purchased  one  piece  of 
land  after  another,  planted  and  improved  the  estate,  and 
transformed  his  modest  cottage  at  Abbotsford  into  a  man- 
sion crowded  with  the  rarest  antiquarian  relics.  There  he 
exercised  a  princely  hospitality,  "doing  the  honors  of  Scot- 
land "  to  those  who  were  attracted  in  crowds  by  the  splendor 
of  his  name.  The  funds  needed  for  such  a  mode  of  life  he 
supplied,  partly  by  his  unwearying  pen,  and  partly  by 
engaging  secretly  in  large  commercial  speculations  wit}} 
the  printing  and  publishing  firm  of  the  Ballantynes,  his 


292  WALTER     SCOTT. 

intimate  friends  and  school-fellows.  But  by  the  failure  of 
the  Ballantynes  in  the  commercial  crisis  of  1825,  Scott 
found  himself  ruined,  and  moreover  responsible  for  a 
gigantic  debt.  He  might  easily  have  escaped  from  his 
liabilities  by  taking  advantage  of  the  bankrupt  law  ;  but  his 
sense  of  honor  was  so  high  and  delicate  that  he  asked  only 
for  time,*  and  resolutely  set  himself  to  pay  off,  by  unremit- 
ting literary  toil,  the  vast  sum  of  one  hundred  and  seventeen 
thousand  pounds.  Woodstock  was  his  first  novel  after  his 
misfortune.  It  was  written  in  three  months,  and  brought 
him  £8,228.  The  nine  volumes  of  the  Life  of  Napoleon 
followed,  and  for  that  work  he  received  £18,000.  Thus 
encouraged,  he  toiled  on  with  unflagging  energy,  deter- 
mined to  pay  the  last  guinea  due  to  the  creditors  of  his 
firm.  "'Volume  after  volume  came  from  his  pen  —  not  so  joy- 
ous as  the  earlier  ones  had  been  —  and  he  had  all  but  reached 
the  goal,  when  the  tired  body  broke  down.  There  is  no 
more  touching  or  sublime  spectacle  than  that  of  this  great 
genius,  in  the  full  plenitude  of  his  powers,  voluntarily  and 
without  a  word  of  repining,  abandoning  that  splendor  he 
was  so  well  qualified  to  adorn,  and  that  rural  life  he  so  well 
knew  how  to  appreciate,  and  shutting  himself  up  in  a  small 
house  in  Edinburgh,  to  wipe  out,  by  incessant  literary  task- 
work, the  liabilities  which  he  had  too  much  delicacy  to 


In  1820  Scott  had  been  raised  to  the  dignity  of  the  bar- 
onetcy, on  account  of  his  literary  greatness  ;  for  the  enchant- 
ing Waverley  Novels,  though  anonymously  published,  were 
universally  ascribed  to  him,  as  the  only  man  in  Great 
Britain  whose  peculiar  acquirements  and  turn  of  genius 
could  have  given  birth  to  them.  Nevertheless,  the  mystery 
of  the  true  authorship,  long  a  very  transparent  one,  was 
maintained  by  Scott  with  great  care.  It  was  not  till  the 
failure  of  Ballantyne's  house  rendered  concealment  any 
longer  impossible  that  he  formally  avowed  himself  their 


WALTER     SCOTT.  293 

author.*  In  the  year  1830  his  mind,  exhausted  by  incessant 
toil,  began  to  show  symptoms  of  weakness;  and  in  tho 
autumn  of  the  next  year  he  was  sent  to  Italy  and  the  Med- 
iterranean in  the  vain  hope  of  re-establishing  his  health. 
He  returned  to  Scotland  after  an  absence  of  six  months ; 
and  after  lingering  in  a  state  of  almost  complete  uncon- 
sciousness for  a  short  time,  he  died  at  Abbotsford  on  the 
21st  of  September,  1832.  His  body  was  buried  in  the  old 
ruin  of  Dry  burgh  Abbey.  "jJis  personal  character  is  almost 
perfect.  High-minded,  generous  and  hospitable  to  the  ex- 
treme, he  hardly  had  an  enemy  or  a  misunderstanding  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  a  long  and  active  career.  He  was  the 
delight  of  society ;  for  his  conversation,  though  unpretend- 
ing, kindly,  and  jovial,  was  filled  with  that  union  of  old- 
world  lore  and  acute  and  picturesque  observation  which 
renders  his  works  so  enchanting.  There  perhaps  never  was 
a  man  so  totally  free  from  the  pettinesses  and  affectations 
to  which  men  of  letters  are  prone.4 

The  narrative  poems  of  Scott  form  an  epoch  in  the  his- 
tory of  modern  literature.  In  their  subjects,  their  versifica- 
tion, and  their  treatment,  they  were  an  innovation.  The 
materials  were  derived  from  the  legends  and  exploits  of 
mediaeval  chivalry ;  and  the  persons  were  borrowed  partly 
from  history  and  partly  from  imagination.  He  seems  to 
move  with  most  freedom  in  that  picturesque  Border  re- 
gion with  whose  romantic  legends  he  was  so  wonderfully 
familiar.  The  greater  of  these  poems  are,  unquestion- 
ably, the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  (254),  Marmion 
(856-858)  and  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  (259).  According 
to  Scott's  own  judgment,  the  interest  of  the  Lay  depends 
mainly  upon  the  style,  that  of  Marmion  upon  the  descrip- 

*  Robert  Chambers,  in  the  Biographical  Dictionary  of  Eminent  Scotchmen,  sug- 
gests that  Scott  "  kept  the  Wai'eiieij  secret  with  such  pertinacious  closeness " 
because  "  unwilling  to  be  considered  na  an  author  writing  for  fortune,  which  ho 
must  have  thought  something  degrading  to  the  baronet  of  Abbotsford."  The  sug- 
gestion is  the  most  plausible  that  has  been  made,  and  well  accords  with  Scott's 
foolish  notions  concerning  the  peculiar  dignity  of  titled  gentlemen. 


294  WALTER     SCOTT. 

tions,  that  of  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  upon  the  incidents. 
The  form  adopted  in  all  these  works,  though  it  may  be  re- 
motely referred  to  a  revival  of  the  spirit  of  the  ancient 
French  and  Anglo-Norman  Trouveres,  was  more  immedi- 
ately suggested,  as  Scott  himself  has  confessed,  by  the  ex- 
ample of  Coleridge,  who  in  his  Christabel  gave  him  the  key- 
note upon  which  he  composed  his  vigorous  and  varied  har- 
mony. \The  plots  of  these  poems  are  in  general  neither  very 
probable,  nor  very  logically  constructed,  but  they  allow  the 
poet  ample  opportunities  for  striking  situations  and  pictur- 
esque episodes^  The  characters  are  discriminated  by  broad 
and  vigorous  strokes,  rather  than  by  any  attempt  at  moral 
analysis  or  strong  delineation  of  passion.  In  his  varied  and 
intensely  vivid  descriptions  of  scenery,  Scott  sometimes 
indulges  in  a  quaint  but  graceful  vein  of  moralizing,  in 
which  he  beautifully  associates  inanimate  nature  with 
the  sentiments  of  the  human  heart.  A  charming  instance 
of  this  may  be  found  in  the  opening  description  of 
Rolceby. 

The  action  of  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel  is  drawn 
from  the  legends  of  Border  war;  and  necromancy,  the 
tourney,  the  raid,  and  the  attack  on  a  strong  castle,  are  suc- 
cessively described  with  unabating  fire  and  energy.  The 
midnight  expedition  of  Deloraine  to  the  wizard's  tomb  in 
Melrose  Abbey,  the  ordeal  of  battle,  the  alarm,  the  feast,  and 
the  penitential  procession,  are  painted  with  the  force  and 
picturesqueness  of  real  scenes.  In  Marmion  the  main 
action  is  loftier  and  more  historical,  and  the  catastrophe 
is  made  to  coincide  with  the  description  of  the  great 
battle  of  Flodden.  Here  Scott  gave  earnest  of  powers 
in  this  department  of  painting  hardly  inferior  to  those  of 
Homer  himself.  It  is  indeed  '•  a  fearful  battle  rendered  you 
in  music;"  and  the  whole  scene,  from  the  rush  and  fury  of 
the  onset  down  to  the  least  heraldic  detail  or  minute  trifle 
of  armor  and  equipment,  is  delineated  with  the  truth  of  ao 


WALTER     SCOTT.  295 

eye-witness.  In  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  he  broke  up  new  and 
fertile  ground ;  he  brought  into  contact  the  wild  half-savage 
mountaineers  of  the  Highlands  and  the  refined  and  chival- 
rous court  of  James  V.  The  exquisite  scenery  of  Loch 
Katrine  became,  when  invested  by  the  magic  of  the  descrip- 
tions, the  chief  object  of  the  traveller's  pilgrimage ;  and  it  is 
no  exaggeration  to  say,  as  Macaulay  has  said,  that  the  gla- 
mour of  the  great  poet's  genius  has  forever  hallowed  even 
the  barbarous  tribes  whose  manners  tire  here  invested  with 
all  the  charms  of  fiction.  In  no  other  of  his  poems  is  that 
gallant  spirit  of  chivalric  bravery  and  courtesy  which  per- 
vades Scott's  poetry,  as  it  animated  his  personal  character,  so 
powerfully  manifested. 

Though  the  tale  of  RoTceby  contains  many  beautiful 
descriptions,  and  exhibits  strenuous  efforts  to  draw  and 
contrast  individual  characters  with  force,  the  epoch — that 
of  the  Civil  Wars  of  Charles  the  First's  reign — was  one  in 
which  Scott  felt  himself  less  at  home  than  in  his  well- 
beloved  feudal  ages. 

The  last  of  the  greater  poems,  TJte  Lord  of  the  Isles, 
went  back  to  Scott's  favorite  epoch.  The  voyage  of  the 
hero -king,  Robert  Bruce,  the  scenes  in  the  Castle  of 
Artoraish,  the  description  of  the  savage  and  terrific  deso- 
lation of  the  Western  Highlands,  show  little  diminution 
in  his  picturesque  power.  The  Battle  of  Bannockburn 
reminds  us  of  the  hand  that  drew  the  field  of  Flodden. 
Scott's  ardent  patriotism  must  have  found  a  special  pleasure 
in  delineating  the  great  victory  of  his  country's  inde- 
pendence. 

The  Vision  of  Don  Roderick,  though  based  upon  a 
striking  and  picturesque  tradition,  is  principally  a  song  of 
triumph  over  the  recent  defeat  of  the  French  arms  in  the 
Peninsula;  but  the  moment  he  leaves  the  mediaeval  battle- 
field, Scott  seems  to  lose  half  his  power;  in  this  poem,  as  in 
Waterloo,  his  combats  are  neither  those  of  feudal  knights 


296  WALTER     SCOTT. 

nor  of  modern  soldiers,  and  there  is  painfully  visible, 
throughout,  a  struggle  to  be  emphatic  and  picturesque.  In- 
deed it  may  be  said  that  almost  all  poems  made  to  order, 
and  written  to  celebrate  contemporary  events,  have  a  forced 
and  artificial  air. 

If  we  apply  to  the  long  and  splendid  series  of  prose 
fictions  known  by  the  name  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  a  distri- 
bution such  as  was  adopted  in  a  former  chapter  for  the  pur- 
pose of  giving  a  classification  of  Shakspeare's  dramas,  we 
shall  obtain  the  following  results :  the  novels  are  twenty- 
nine  in  number,  of  varied  degrees  of  excellence.  They  may 
be  divided  into  the  two  main  classes  of  Historical,  or  such 
as  derive  their  principal  interest  from  the  delineation  of 
some  real  persons  or  events ;  and  Personal,  or  those  entirely 
or  principally  founded  upon  private  life  or  family  legend. 
According  to  this  method  of  classification,  we  shall  range 
seven  works  under  Scottish  history,  seven  under  English, 
and  three  will  belong  to  the'  Continental  department; 
while  the  novels  mainly  assignable  to  the  head  of  private 
life — sometimes,  it  is  true,  more  or  less  connected,  as 
in  the  cases  of  Rob  Roy  and  Red-gauntlet,  Avith  historical 
events — are  twelve  in  number.  The  latter  class  are  for 
the  most  part  of  purely  Scottish  scenery  and  character. 
The  following  arrangement  will  assist  the  memory  in  recall- 
ing such  a  vast  and  varied  cycle  of  works : — 


L— HISTOEICAL. 

L  SCOTTISH  .  .  .  Waverley.  The  Period  of  the  Pretend- 
er's attempt  in  1745. 

The  Legend  of  Montr ose.  The  Civil 
War  ir  the  seventeenth  century. 

Old  Mortality.  -The  Rebellion  of  the 
Covenanters. 


WALTEK     SCOTT. 


29 


II.  ENGLISH 


HI. 


TheMonas-  \  The  deposition  and  im- 
tery,  prison  ment    of    Mary 

The  Abbot.  )      Queen  of  Scots. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth.    The  Eeign 

of  Robert  III. 
+Castlc  Dangerous.     The  time  of  the 

Black  Douglas. 

(lvanJioe\263).  The  return  of  Richard 
Coeur  de  Lion  from  the  Holy  Land. 
Kenihoorth.     The  reign  of  Elizabeth. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel.  Reign  of  James  I. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak.    Reign  of  Charles 
II.  ;  period  of  the  pretended  Catholic 
plot. 
Betrothed.     The   wars   of  the   Welsh 

Marches. 
(Tlie   Talismaq)   The   third  Crusade: 

Richard  Coeur  de  Lion. 
T  Woodstock.     The  Civil  War  and  Com- 
monwealth. 

entin   Durward.      Louis    XI.  and 
Charles  the  Bold. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein.     The  epoch  of  the 
battle  of  Nancy. 

Robert  of  Paris.  The  Crusaders 
at  Byzantium. 


-f- 


II.   PERSONAL. 


Guy  Mannering. 

Tlie  Antiquary. 

Blade  Dwarf. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian  (26S). 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 


TJie  Pirate. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Red  Gauntlet., 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter- 

The  Two  Drovers. 

The  Highland  Widow, 


298  WALTER     SCOTT. 

In  this  unequalled  series  of  fictions,  the  author's  power 
of  bringing  near  and  making  palpable  to  us  the  remote  and 
historical,  whether  of  persons,  places,  or  events,  has  some- 
thing in  common  with  that  of  Shakespeare,  as  shown  in  his 
historical  dramas.  Scott  was  careless  in  the  construction 
of  his  plots//  He  wrote  with  great  rapidity,  and  aimed  at 
picturesque  effect  rather  than  at  logical  coherency.  His 
powerful  imagination  carried  him  away  so  vehemently, 
that  the  delight  he  must  have  felt  in  developing  the 
humors  and  adventures  of  one  of  those  inimitable  per- 
sons he  had  invented,  sometimes  left  him  no  space  for 
the  elaboration  of  the  pre-arranged  intrigue.  His  style, 
though  always  easy  and  animated,  is  far  from  being  careful 
or  elaborate.  Scotticisms  will  be  met  with  in  almost  every 
chapter.  Description,  whether  of  scenery,  incident,  or  per- 
sonal appearance,  is  very  abundant  in  his  works ;  but  few  of 
his  readers  will  be  found  to  complain  of  his  luxuriance  in 
this  respect,  for  it  has  filled  his  pages  with  bright  and  vivid 
pictures.  His  sentiments  are  invariably  pure,  manly,  and 
elevated ;  and  the  spirit  of  the  true  gentleman  is  seen  as 
clearly  in  his  deep  sympathy  with  the  virtues  of  the  poor 
and  humble,  as  in  the  knightly  fervor  with  which  he  paints 
the  loftier  feelings  of  the  educated  classes.  In  the  delinea- 
tion of  character,  as  well  as  in  the  painting  of  external 
nature,  he  faithfully  reflects  the  surface.  There  is  no  pro- 
founH  analysis  of  passion  in  his  novels.  He  simply  sets  be- 
fore us  so  brightly,  so  vividly,  all  that  is  necessary  to  give  a 
distinct  idea,  that  his  images  remain  in  the  memory. 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

BYRON,     MOORE,    SHELLEY,    KEATS,    LEIGH    HUNT,    LANDOR, 
HOOD,     BROWNING. 

.  LORD   BYRON. 

"  Never  had  any  writer  so  vast  a  command  of  the  whole  eloquence  of  scorn, 
misanthropy,  and  despair."—?7.  B.  Macaulay. 

"  I  found  Lord  Byron  in  the  highest  degree  courteous1,  and  even  kind.  We  met 
for  an  hour  or  two  almost  daily  in  Mr.  Murray's  drawing-room,  and  found  a  great 
deal  to  say  to  each  other.  .  .  .  His  reading  did  not  seem  to  me  to  have  been 
very  extensive,  cither  in  poetry  or  history.  Having  the  advantage  of  him  in  that 
respect,  and  possessing  a  good  competent  share  of  such  reading  as  is  little  read,  I 
was  sometimes  able  to  put  under  his  eye  objects  which  had  for  him  the  interest  of 
novelty."  —  Walter  Scott. 

"Byron's  poetry  is  great—  great—  it  makes  him  truly  great;  he  has  not  so  much 
greatness  in  himseif."  —  Thomas  Campbell. 

"To  this  day  English  critics  are  unjust  to  him  .....  If  ever  there  was  a 
violent  and  madly  sensitive  soul,  but  incapable  of  being  otherwise  ;  ever  agitated, 
but  iu  an  enclosure  without  issue  ;  predisposed  to  poetry  by  its  innate  fire,  but 
limited  by  its  natural  barriers  to  a  single  kind  of  poetry  —  it  was  Byron's."  —  H.  A. 
Taine. 


influence  exerted  by  Byron  on  the  taste  and  senti- 
-J-  ment  of  Europe  has  not  yet  passed  aw  ay,  "arid,  though 
far  from  being  so  pervading  as  it  once  was,  it  is  not  likely  to 
be  ever  effaced.  He  called  himself,  in  one  of  his  poems, 
"the  grand  Xapoleon  of  the  realms  of  rhyme;"  and  there 
is  some  similarity  between  the  suddenness  and  splendor  of 
his  literary  career,  and  the  meteoric  rise  and  domination  of 
the  First  Bonaparte.  They  were  both,  in  their  respective  ' 
departments,  the  offspring  of  revolution  ;  and  both,  after 
reigning  witl^  absolute  power  for  some  time,  were  deposed 
from  their  supremacy.  Their  reigns  will  leave  traces  in 
the  political,  and  in  the  literary  history  of  the  nine- 


300  B  Y  R  0  X  . 

teenth  century.  George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron  (1788- 
1824)  (264-277),  was  born  in  London,  and  was  the 
son  of  an  unprincipled  profligate  and  of  a  Scottish  heir- 
ess. His  mother  had  a  temper  so  passionate  and  uncon- 
trolled that,  in  its  capricious,  alternations  of  fondness  and 
violence,  she  seemed  insane.  Her  dowry  was  speedily  dissi- 
pated by  her  worthless  husband,  and  she,  with  her  boy,  was 
obliged  to  live  for  several  years  in  comparative  poverty.  He 
was  about  eleven  years  old  when  the  death  of  his  grand- 
uncle,  an  eccentric  and  misanthropic  recluse,  made  him 
heir-presumptive  to  the  baronial  title  of  one  of  the  most 
ancient  aristocratic  houses  in  England.  "With  the  title,  he 
inherited  large,  though  embarrassed  estates,  and  the  noble 
picturesque  residence  of  Newstead  Abbey,  near  Nottingham. 
He  was  sent  first  to  Harrow  School,  and  afterwards  to 
Trinity  College,  Cambridge.  At  college  he  became  noto- 
rious for  the  irregularities  of  his  conduct.  He  was  a  greedy 
though  desultory  reader;  and  his  imagination  was  especially 
attracted  to  Oriental  history  and  travels. 

While  at  Cambridge,  in  his  twentieth  year,  Byron  made 
his  first  literary  attempt,  in  the  publication  of  a  small  vol- 
ume of  fugitive  poems  entitled  Hours  of  Idleness,  by  Lord 
Byron,  a  Minor.  An  unfavorable  criticism  of  this  work  in 
the  Edinburgh  Review  threw  him  into  a  frenzy  of  rage. 
He  instantly  set  about  taking  his  revenge  in  the  satire, 
English  Bards  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  in  which  he  involved 
in  one  common  storm  of  invective,  not  only  his  enemies  of 
the  Edinburgh  Review,  but  almost  all  the  literary  men  of 
the  day, — "Walter  Scott,  Moore,  and  many  others,  from 
whom  he  had  received  no  provocation  whatever.  He  soon 
became  ashamed  of  his  unreasoning  violence ;  tried,  but 
vainly,  to  suppress  the  poem ;  and,  in  after  life,  became  the 
friend  and  sincere  admirer  of  some  whom  he  had  lampooned. 
Byron  now  went  abroad  to  travel,  and  filled  his  mind  with 
the  picturesque  life  and  scenery  of  Greece,  Turkey,  and  the 


B  T  II  0  5T  .  301 

East,  accumulating  those  stores  of  character  and  description 
•which  he  poured  forth  with  such  royal  splendor  in  his  poems. 
The  first  two  cantos  of  Childe  Harold  took  the  public  by  storm, 
and  at  once  placed  the  young  poet  at  the  summit  of  social 
and  literary  popularity.  "  I  awoke  one  morning,"  he  says, 
"  and  found  myself  famous."  These  cantos  were  followed 
in  rapid  succession  by  The  Giaour,  (SO  8,  969),  TJie 
Bride  of  Abydos  (S7O),  TJie  Corsair  (271),  and  Lara. 
Scott  had  drawn  his  material  from  feudal  and  Scottish  life ; 
Byron  broke  up  new  ground  in  describing  the  manners, 
scenery,  and  wild  passions  of  the  East  and  of  Greece — a 
region  as  picturesque  as  that  of  his  rival,  as  well  known  to 
him  by  experience,  and  as  new  and  fresh  to  the  public  he 
addressed.  Eeturning  to  England  in  the  full  blaze  of  his 
dawning  fame,  the  poet  became  the  lion  of  the  day.  His 
life  was  passed  in  fashionable  dissipation.  He  married  Miss 
Milbanke,  a  lady  of  fortune  ;  but  the  union  was  an  unhappy 
one.  In  about  a  year  Lady  Byron  suddenly  quitted  her 
husband.  Her  reasons  for  taking  this  step  will  ever  remain 
a  mystery.  Deeply  wounded  by  the  scandal  of  this  separa- 
tion, the  poet  again  left  England ;  and  thenceforth  his  life 
was  passed  uninterruptedly  on  the  Continent,  in  Switzer- 
land, in  Italy,  and  in  Greece,  where  he  solaced  his  embit- 
tered spirit  with  misanthropical  attacks  upon  all  that  his 
countrymen  held  sacred,  and  gradually  plunged  deeper  and 
deeper  into  a  slough  of  sensuality  and  vice.  While  at 
Geneva  he  produced  the  third  canto  of  Childe  HaroldjThe 
Prisoner  of  <7Mfrw)(273),  Manfred  (274),  and  The 
Lament  of  Tasso.  Between  1818  and  1821  he  was  residing 
at  Venice  and  Ravenna ;  and  was  writing  Mazeppa,  the  first 
five  cantos  of  Don  Juan,  and  most  of  his  tragedies,  as  Marino 
Falicro,  Sardanapalus,  The  Two  Foscari,  Werner,  Cain,  and 
The  Deformed  Transformed.  In  many  of  these  poems  the 
influence  of  Shelley's  literary  manner  and  philosophical 
tenets  is  traceable.  At  this  time  he  was  grossly  dissipated, 


302  BYROX. 

and  associated  with  persons  of  low  character.  In  1823  he 
determined  to  devote  his  fortune  and  his  influence  to  the  aid 
of  the  Greeks,  then  struggling  for  their  independence.  He 
arrived  at  Missolonghi  at  the  beginning  of  1824;  where, 
after  giving  striking  indications  of  his  practical  talents,  as 
well  as  of  his  ardor  and  self-sacrifice,  he  died  on  the  19th  of 
April  of  the  same  year,  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-six. 

Childe  Harold,  his  most  remarkable  poem,  consists  of  a 
series  of  gloomy  but  intensely  poetical  monologues,  put 
into  the  mouth  of  a  jaded  and  misanthropic  voluptuary, 
who  seeks  refuge  from  his  misery  in  the  contemplation  of 
the  lovely  and  historic  scenes  of  travel.  The  first  canto 
describes  Portugal  and  Spain ;  the  second  carries  the  wan- 
derer to  Greece,  Albania  and  the  Aegean  Archipelago ;  in 
the  third,  the  finest  and  intensest  of  them  all,  Switzerland, 
Belgium  and  the  Rhine,  give  opportunities  not  only  for 
splendid  pictures  of  the  consummate  beauty  of  nature,  but 
also  for  musings  on  JS'apoleon,  Voltaire,  Rousseau  and  the 
great  men  whose  renown  has  thrown  a  new  glory  over  those 
enchanting  scenes ;  in  the  fourth  canto  the  reader  is  borne 
successively  over  the  fairest  parts  of  Italy — Venice,  Ferrara, 
Florence,  Rome,  and  Ravenna — and  the  immortal  dead,  and 
the  master-pieces  of  painting  and  sculpture,  are  described 
to  him  with  an  intensity  of  feeling  that  had  never  before 
been  shown  in  descriptive  poetry. 

The  first  two  cantos  are  somewhat  feeble  and  tame  as 
compared  with  the  strength  and  massive  power  of  the  two 
later,  which  are  the  productions  of  his  more  mature  facul- 
ties. The  third  canto  contains  the  magnificent  description 
of  the  Battle  of  Waterloo,  with  bitter  and  melancholy  but 
sublime  musings  on  the  vanity  of  military  fame.  The  poem 
is  written  in  the  Spenserian  stanza.  In  the  beginning  the 
poet  makes  an  effort  to  give  somewhat  of  the  quaint  and 
archaic  character  of  the  Fairy  Queen ;  but  he  soon  throws 
off  the  useless  and  embarrassing  restraint.  In  intensity  of 


BYRON.  303 

feeling,  in  richness  and  harmony  of  expression,  and  in  an 
imposing  tone  of  gloomy,  sceptical,  and  misanthropic  reflec- 
tion, Childe  Harold  stands  alone  in  our  literature. 

The  romantic  tales  of  Byron  are  all  marked  by  similar 
peculiarities  of  thought  and  treatment,  though  they  differ 
in  the  kind  and  degree  of  their  respective  excellences.  The 
Giaour  (&68),  The  Siege  of  Corinth,  Mazeppa,  Parisina, 
The  Prisoner  of  Chillon  (273),  and  Tlie  Bride  of  Abydos, 
are  written  in  that  irregular  and  flowing  versification  which 
Scott  brought  into  fashion ;  while  The  Corsair,  Lara,  and 
The  Island,  are  in  the  regular  heroic  measure.  These 
poems  are,  in  general,  fragmentary.  They  are  made  up 
of  intensely  interesting  moments  of  passion  and  action. 
Neither  in  these  nor  in  any  of  his  works  does  Byron 
show  the  least  power  of  delineating  variety  of  char- 
acter. There  are  but  two  personages  in  all  his  poems — a 
man  in  whom  unbridled  passions  have  desolated  the  heart, 
and  left  it  hard  and  impenetrable ;  a  man  contemptuous  of 
his  kind,  sceptical  and  despairing,  yet  occasionally  feeling 
the  softer  emotions  with  a  singular  intensity.  The  woman 
is  the  woman  of  the  East — sensual,  devoted,  and  loving,  but 
loving  with  the  unreasoning  attachment  of  the  lower  ani- 
mals. These  elements  of  character,  meagre  and  unnatural 
as  they  are,  are  however  set  before  us  with  such  power  that 
the  young  and  inexperienced  reader  invariably  loses  sight 
of  their  contradictions.  In  all  these  poems  we  meet  with 
inimitable  descriptions,  tender,  animated,  or  profound:  thus 
the  famous  comparison  of  enslaved  Greece  to  a  corpse  in 
The  Giaour,  the  night-scene  and  the  battle-scene  in  TJie 
Corsair  and  Lara,  the  eve  of  the  storming  of  the  city  in 
The  Siege  of  Corinth,  and  the  fiery  energy  of  the  attack  in 
tha  same  poem,  the  exquisite  opening  lines  in  Parisina, 
besides  a  multitude  of  others,  might  be  adduced  to  prove 
Byron's  extraordinary  genius  in  communicating  to  his  pic- 
tures the  coloring  of  his  own  feelings  and  character. 


304  B  T  R  0  N-  . 

In  Beppo  and  The  Vision  of  Judgment  Byron,  has  ven- 
tured upon  the  gay,  airy,  and  satirical.  The  former  of  these 
poems  is  not  over-moral ;  but  it  is  exquisitely  playful  and 
sparkling.  The  Vision  is  a  severe  attack  upon  Southey,  and 
though  somewhat  ferocious  and  truculent,  is  exceedingly 
brilliant.  Among  the  less  commonly  read  of  Byron's  longer 
poems  we  may  mention  The  Age  of  Bronze,  a  vehement  satir- 
ical declamation ;  The  Curse  of  Minerva,  directed  against 
the  spoliation  of  the  frieze  of  the  Parthenon,  by  Lord  Elgin ; 
TJie  Lament  of  Tasso,  and  The  Prophecy  of  Dante,  the  latter 
written  in  the  difficult  ierza  rima,  the  first  attempt  of  any 
English  poet  to  employ  that  measure.  The  Dream  is  in 
some  respects  the  most  touching  of  Byron's  minor  works. 
It  is  the  narrative,  in  the  form  of  a  vision,  of  his  early 
sorrow  for  Mary  Chaworth.  There  is  hardly,  in  the  whole 
range  of  literature,  so  tender,  so  lofty,  and  so  condensed  a 
life-drama  as  that  narrated  in  these  verses. 

The  dramatic  works  of  Byron  are  in  many  respects  un- 
like what  might  have  been  expected  from  the  peculiar  char- 
acter of  his  genius.  In  form  they  are  cold,  severe,  and  lofty. 
Artful  involution  of  intrigue  they  have  not ;  and  though 
singularly  destitute  of  powerful  passion,  they  are  full  of  in- 
tense sentiment.  The  finest  of  them  is  Manfred,  a  poem 
consisting  not  of  action  represented  in  dialogue,  but  of  a 
series  of  sublime  soliloquies,  in  which  the  mysterious  hero 
describes  nature,  and  pours  forth  his  despair  and  his  self- 
pity.  In  this  work,  as  well  as  in  Cain,  we  see  the  expres- 
sion of  Byron's  sceptical  spirit,  and  the  tone  of  half-melan- 
choly, half-mocking  misanthropy,  which  was  in  him  partly 
sincere  and  partly  put  on  for  effect.  The  more  exclusively 
historical  pieces — Marino  Faliero,  The  Two  Foscari—are 
derived  from  Venetian  annals ;  but  in  neither  of  them  has 
Byron  clothed  the  events  with  living  reality.  There  is  in 
these  dramas  a  complete  failure  in  variety  of  character ;  and 
the  interest  is  concentrated  on  the  obstinate  harping  of  the 


B  Y  R  0  X  .  305 

principal  personages  upon  one  topic — their  own  wrongs  and 
humiliations.  In  Sardanapalus  the  remoteness  of  the  epoch 
chosen,  and  our  total  ignorance  of  the  interior  life  of  those 
times,  remove  the  story  into  the  region  of  fiction.  Werner, 
a  piece  of  domestic  interest,  is  bodily  borrowed,  as  far  as  re- 
gards its  incidents,  and  even  much  of  its  dialogue,  from  the 
Hungarian's  Story  in  Miss  Lee's  Canterbury  Tales  ;  indeed, 
Byron's  share  in  its  composition  extends  little  farther  than 
the  cutting  up  of  Miss  Lee's  prose  into  tolerably  regular 
lines. 

Don  Juan  is  the  longest,  the  most  singular,  and  in  some 
respects  the  most  characteristic,  of  Byron's  poems.  It  is, 
indeed,  one  of  the  most  significant  productions  of  the  age 
of  revolution  and  scepticism  which  preceded  its  appearance. 
The  outline  of  the  story  is  the  old  Spanish  legend  of  Don 
Juan  de  Tenorio,  upon  which  have  been  founded  so  many 
dramatic  works,  among  the  rest  the  Featin  de  Pierre  of 
Moliere  and  the  immortal  opera  of  Mozart.  The  funda- 
mental idea  of  the  atheist  and  voluptuary,  enabled  Byron 
to  carry  his  hero  through  various  adventures,  serious  and 
comic,  to  exhibit  his  unrivalled  power  of  description,  and 
left  him  unfettered  by  any  necessities  of  time  and  place. 
Even  in  its  unfinished  state,  it  consists  of  sixteen  cantos, 
and  there  is  no  reason  why  it  should  not  have  been  indefi- 
nitely extended.  It  was  the  author's  intention  to  bring  his 
hero's  adventures  to  a  regular  termination,  but  so  desultory 
a  series  of  incidents  has  no  real  coherency.  The  merits  of 
this  extraordinary  poem  are  its  richness  of  ideas,  thoughts, 
and  images ;  its  witty  allusion  and  sarcastic  reflection ;  and 
above  all,  its  frequent  and  easy  transitions.  The  morality 
is  throughout  very  low  and  selfish;  but,  in  spite  of  much 
superficial  flippancy,  this  poem  contains  an  immense  mass 
of  profound  and  melancholy  satire;  and  in  a  very  large 
number  of  serious  passages  Byron  has  shown  a  power,  pic- 
turesqueness,  and  pathos  not  surpassed  by  other  authors. 


30G  BY  RON". 

"  The  genius  of  Lord  Byron  is  one  of  the  most  remarka- 
ble in  our  literature  for  originality,  versatility,  and  energy- 
It  is  true  that  his  quick  sense  of  beauty  made  him  a  mimic 
of  other  poets;  it  is  true  that  as  the  wealth  of  his  own 
resources  raised  him  above  the  suspicion  of  unfair  copying, 
he  never  scrupled  to  imitate  whatever  he  most  admired ;  but 
it  is  no  less  true  that  he  is  on  the  whole  one  of  the  most 
original  writers  of  his  age.  His  versatility  is  perhaps  less 
obvious.  The  monotony  of  his  motives  and  of  his  characters 
strikes  every  reader ;  but  characters  and  tone  apart,  his  style 
and  imagery  and  sentiments  are  endlessly  diversified,  nor  has 
he  treated  a  single  subject  in  which  he  has  'not  excelled. 
His  energy,  however,  is  his  most  striking  quality;  'thoughts 
that  breathe,  and  words  that  burn'  are  the  common  staple 
of  his  poetry.  He  is  everywhere  impressive,  not  only  in 
passages,  but  through  the  whole  body  and  tissue  of  his  com- 
positions. 

"  With  all  this  we  cannot  but  concur  in  Lord  Jeffrey's 
judgment :  '  the  general  tendency  of  Lord  Byron's  writings 
we  believe  to  be  in  the  highest  degree  pernicious ;  though 
his  poems  abound  in  sentiments  of  great  dignity  and  ten- 
derness, as  well  as  in  passages  of  infinite  sublimity  and 
beauty;  it  is  their  tendency  to  destroy  all  belief  in  the 
reality  of  virtue,  and  to  make  all  enthusiasm  and  consist- 
ency of  affection  ridiculous.'  His  sarcasm  blasts  alike  the 
weeds  of  hypocrisy  and  cant,  and  the  flowers  of  faith  and  of 
holiest  affections.  'His  plan  of  blending  in  one  and  the 
same  character  lofty  superiority  and  contempt  for  common- 
place virtue,  heroism  and  sensuality,  great  intellectual 
power  and  a  mocking  profane  spirit,  is  as  unnatural  as  it  is 
mischievous.' "  * 

For  discussions  of  Byron  and  his  works,  see  Moore's  Life  of  Byron ;  The  Edin- 
burgh Review, Vol.  XXVII.;  The  North  American  Review,  Vols.  V., XIII., XX., and 
LX. ;  The  British  Essayists— Jeffrey ;  E.  P.  \Vhipple's  Essays,  Vol.  I, ;  and  Taine'g 
English  Literature. 

•  Angus  Eng.  Lit.,  p  249. 


MOORE.  307 

Thomas  Moore  (1779-1852),  the  personal  friend  and  biographer 
of  Byron,  is  associated  in  literature  with  Byron,  Shelley  and 
Scott,  men  whom  he  survived  for  a  quarter  of  a  century.  This  is 
accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  his  best  works  were  written  early  in 
the  century.  He  was  an  Irishman,  born  in  Dublin,  and  received  an 
education  such  as  was  called  for  by  his  extraordinary  youthful 
talents.  Being  a  Catholic,  many  of  the  avenues  to  public  distinc- 
tion were  then  closed  to  him  by  the  invidious  laws  that  oppressed 
his  country  and  his  religion.  After  distinguishing  himself  at  the 
University  of  Dublin  he  passed  over  to  London,  nominally  with  the 
intention  of  studying  law  in  the  Temple,  but  he  soon  began  his 
long  and  brilliant  career  as  a  poet.  He  first  appeared  as  the  trans- 
lator of  the  Odes  of  Anacreon.  The  work,  published  by  subscrip- 
tion, and  dedicated  to  the  Prince  Regent,  immediately  introduced 
Moore  into  gay  and  fashionable  life.  He  had,  both  in  his  personal 
and  poetical  character,  everything  calculated  to  make  him  the 
darling  of  society,  great  conversational  talents,  an  agreeable  voice, 
and  a  degree  of  musical  skill  that  enabled  him  to  give  enchanting 
effect  to  his  tender,  voluptuous  or  patriotic  songs.  During  his 
whole  life  he  was  the  spoiled  child  of  popularity.  In  1804  he 
obtained  a  small  government  post  in  the  island  of  Bermuda.  His 
visit  to  America  and  the  Antilles  drewr  from  him  some  of  the  most 
sparkling  of  his  early  poems.  Neglecting  the  duties  of  his  station, 
he  became  responsible,  by  the  dishonesty  of  a  subordinate,  for  a 
considerable  sum  of  public  money.  This  claim  of  the  Crown  he 
afterwards  discharged  by  his  literary  labor ;  and  nearly  the  whole 
of  his  long  life  was  devoted  to  the  production  of  a  rapid  succession 
of  compositions,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  some  of  them  obtaining 
an  immense,  and  all  a  respectable  success.  As  an  Irishman  and 
Catholic,  Moore's  sentiments  naturally  supplied  the  biting  and  yet 
pleasant  sarcasm  found  in  his  political  pasquinades.  He  spent  the 
latter  part  of  his  life  in  a  cottage  near  Bowood,  the  residence  of 
the  Marquess  of  Lansdowne,  whose  friendship  he  had  won. 

Moore's  poetical  writings  consist  chiefly  of  lyrics,  serious  and 
comic,  the  most  celebrated  collection  among  them  being  the  Irish 
Melodies.  The  version  of  Anacreon  is  far  too  brilliant  and  orna- 
mental in  its  language  to  give  a  correct  idea  of  the  manner  of  the 
Greek  poet.  In  his  juvenile  poems,  as  well  as  in  the  collection 
published  under  the  pseudonym  of  Thomas  Little,  in  the  produc- 


308  MOORE. 

tions  suggested  by  his  visit  to  America  and  the  West  Indies,  and 
in  the  Odes  and  Epistles,  we  see  an  ingenious  and  ever-watchful 
invention,  and  also  a  strongly  voluptuous  tendency  of  sentiment, 
sometimes  carried  beyond  the  bounds  of  good  taste  and  morality. 

The  Irish  Melodies,  a  collection  of  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  songs  (279-2§2),  were  composed  in  order  to  furnish 
appropriate  words  to -a  great  number  of  beautiful  national  airs, 
some  of  great  antiquity,  which  had  been  degraded  by  becoming 
gradually  associated  with  lines  often  vulgar  and  not  always  decent. 
Patriotism,  love,  and  conviviality  form  the  subject-matter  of  these 
charming  lyrics ;  their  versification  has  never  been  surpassed  for 
melody  and  neatness;  the  language  is  always  clear,  appropriate, 
and  concise,  and  sometimes  reaches  a  high  degree  of  majesty,  vigor, 
or  tenderness.  Though  Moore  is  destitute  of  the  intense  sincerity 
of  Burns,  yet  like  Burns  he  appeals  to  the  universal  sentiments  of 
his  countrymen,  and  his  popularity  is  proportionally  great. 
"  Burns  and  Moore  stand  side  by  side  as  the  lyrists  of  two  kindred 
nations.  But  the  works  of  the  latter,  polished  and  surpassingly 
sweet  as  they  are,  have  something  of  the  drawing-room  sheen  about 
them,  which  does  not  find  its  way  to  the  heart  so  readily  as  the 
simple  grace  of  the  unconventional  Ayrshire  peasant.  The  Muse  of 
the  Irish  lawyer  is  crowned  with  a  circlet  of  shining  gems  ;  the  Muse 
of  the  Scottish  peasant  wears  a  garland  of  sweet  field-flowers."* 

Moore's  National  Airs  were  intended  to  be  set  to  tunes  peculiar 
to  various  countries ;  they  exhibit  the  same  musical  sensibility  and 
the  same  neatness  of  expression  as  the  Irish  Melodies ;  but  they  are 
naturally  inferior  to  them  in  intensity  of  patriotic  feeling.  A  small 
collection  of  Sacred  Songs  affords  frequent  examples  of  the  merits 
of  Moore's  lyrical  genius.  All  these  collections  exhibit  a  high 
polish,  an  almost  fastidious  finish  of  style,  making  them  models  of 
perfection  in  their  peculiar  manner. 

The  political  squibs  of  Moore  were  directed  against  the  Tory 
party  in  general,  and  were  showered  with  peculiar  vivacity  and 
stinging  effect  upon  the  Regent,  afterwards  George  IV.,  and  upon 
all  who  were  opposed  to  the  granting  of  any  relaxation  to  the  Irish 
Catholics.  His  Odes  on  Cash,  Corn,  and  Catholics,  his  Fables  for  the 
Holy  Alliance,  show  an  inexhaustible  invention  of  quaint  and  in- 
genious ideas,  and  the  power  of  bringing  the  most  remote  allusions 
to  bear  upon  the  person  or  thing  selected  for  attack.  Some  of  the 

*  Collier. 


MOORE.  309 

most  celebrated  of  these  brilliant  pasquinades  were  combined  into 
a  story,  as  for  example  The  Fudge  Family  in  Paris,  purporting  to 
be  a  series  of  letters  written  from  France  just  at  the  period  of  the 
Restoration  of  the  Bourbons.  Nothing  can  be  more  animated, 
brilliant,  and  humorous  than  the  description  of  the  motley  life  and 
the  giddy  whirl  of  amusement  in  Paris  at  that  memorable  moment ; 
and  the  whole  is  seasoned  with  such  a  multitude  of  personal  and 
political  allusions,  that  The  Fudge  Family  will  probably  ever  retain 
its  popularity,  as  a  social  and  political  sketch  of  a  most  interest- 
ing episode  in  modern  European  history. 

The  longer  and  more  ambitious  poems  of  Moore  arc  Lalla  ftookh 
and  the  Loves  of  the  Angels,  the  former  being  immeasurably  the 
better,  both  in  the  interest  of  the  story  and  in  the  power  of  its 
treatment.  The  plan  of  Lalla  Rookh  is  original ;  it  consists  of  a 
little  prose  love-tale,  describing  the  journey  of  a  beautiful  Oriental 
princess  from  Delhi  to  Bucharia,  where  she  is  to  meet  her  be- 
trothed, the  king  of  the  latter  country.  The  prose  portion  of  che 
work  is  inimitably  beautiful ;  the  whole  style  is  sparkling  with 
Oriental  gems,  and  perfumed  as  with  Oriental  musk  and  roses; 
and  the  very  profusion  of  brilliancy  and  of  voluptuous  languor, 
which  in  another  kind  of  composition  might  be  regarded  as  mere- 
tricious, only  adds  to  the  Oriental  effect.  The  story  forms  a  setting 
to  four  poems :  The  Veiled  Prophet,  The  Fire  Worshippers,  Paradise 
and  the  Peri  (27"§),  and  The  Light  of  the  Harem;  all,  of  course,  of  an 
Eastern  character,  and  the  first  two  in  some  degree  historical.  The 
first,  written  in  the  rhymed  heroic  couplet,  is  the  longest  and  most 
ambitious,  while  the  others  are  composed  in  that  irregular  animated 
versification,  brought  into  fashion  by  Walter  Scott  and  Byron. 
The  Loves  of  the  Angels  is  inferior  to  Lalla  Rookh,  not  only  in  the 
impracticable  nature  of  its  subject,  but  also  in  the  monotony  of 
its  treatment. 

The  chief  prose  works  of  Moore  are  the  three  biographies  of 
Sheridan,  Byron,  and  Lord  Edward  Fitzgerald,  and  the  tale  of  The 
Epicurean.  The  last,  a  narrative  of  the  first  ages  of  Christianity, 
describes  the  conversion  of  a  young  Athenian  philosopher,  who 
travels  into  Egypt,  and  is  initiated  into  the  mysterious  worship  of 
Isis.  Moore's  biographies,  especially  that  of  Byron,  are  of  great 
value.  His  memoir  of  his  friend  and  fellow-poet  is  the  best  that 
has  yet  appeared.  It  is  particularly  valuable  from  consisting,  as 


310  MOORE,     SHELLEY. 

far  as  possible,  of  extracts  from  Byron's  own  journals  and  corres- 
pondence, so  that  the  subject  of  the  biography  is  delineated  in  his 
own  words,  Moore  furnishing  the  arrangement  and  the  connecting 
matter. 

Percy  Bysshe  Shelley  (1793-1822)  was  of  a  wealthy  family, 
and  was  born  at  Field  Place,  near  Horsham,  in  Sussex.  At  Eton  his 
sensitive  mind  was  shocked  by  the  sight  of  boyish  tyranny ;  and  he 
went  to  Oxford  full  of  abhorrence  for  the  cruelty  and  bigotry  which 
he  fancied  pervaded  all  the  relations  of  civilized  life.  An  eager  and 
desultory  student,  he  rapidly  filled  his  mind  with  the  arguments 
against  Christianity:  and  having  published  a  tract  avowing  atheistic 
principles,  he  was  expelled  from  the  University.  This  scandal,  to- 
gether with  his  marriage  to  a  beautiful  girl,  his  inferior  in  rank, 
caused  him  to  be  renounced  by  his  family.  After  a  few  years  his 
wife  left  him,  and  subsequently  terminated  her  life  by  suicide.  He 
then  married  Mary  Wollstonecraft  Godwin,  and  having  induced 
his  family  to  make  him  a  considerable  annual  allowance,  he  was 
relieved  from  pecuniary  difficulties.  The  delicate  state  of  his 
health  rendered  it  advisable  that  he  should  leave  England  for  a 
warmer  climate,  and  the  remainder  of  his  life  was  passed  abroad, 
with  only  one  short  interruption.  In  Switzerland  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  Byron,  upon  whom  he  exerted  a  powerful  influence. 
He  afterwards  migrated  to  Italy,  where  he  kept  up  an  intimate 
companionship  with  Byron,  still  continuing  to  pour  forth  his 
strange  and  enchanting  poetry.  He  resided  principally  at  Rome, 
and  composed  there  many  of  his  finest  productions.  His  death  was 
early  and  tragic.  Boating  had  always  been  a  passion  with  him. 
As  he  was  returning  in  a  small  yacht  from  Leghorn,  in  company 
with  a  friend  and  a  single  sailor,  his  vessel  was  caught  in  a  squall, 
in  the  Gulf  of  Spezzia,  and  went  down  with  all  on  board.  His  body 
was  washed  ashore  some  days  afterwards,  and  in  accordance  with 
the  quarantine  laws  of  that  locality  was  burned.  Byron  deposited 
the  ashes  in  the  Protestant  Cemetery  at  Rome. 

Shelley,  both  as  a  poet  and  as  a  man,  was  a  dreamer,  a  visionary  ; 
his  mind  was  filled  with  glorious  but  unreal  phantoms  of  the  per- 
fectibility of  mankind.  The  very  intensity  of  his  sympathy  with 
his  kind  clouded  his  reason  ;  and  he  fell  into  the  common  error  of 
all  enthusiasts,  of  supposing  that,  if  the  present  organization  of 


SHELLEY.  311 

society  were  swept  away,  a  millennium  of  virtue  and  happiness 
must  ensue.  As  a  poet  he  was  gifted  with  genius  of  a  very  high 
order,  Avith  richness  and  fertility  of  imagination,  an  intense  fire  and 
energy  in  the  reproduction  of  what  he  conceived,  and  a  command 
over  all  the  resources  of  metrical  harmony  such  as  no  English  poet 
has  surpassed.  His  career  commences  with  Queen  Hob,  written  by 
the  poet  when  but  eighteen  years  old,  a  wild  phantasmagoria  of 
beautiful  description  and  fervent  declamation.  The  detect  of  the 
poem,  and  indeed  of  many  of  Shelley's  other  compositions,  is  a 
vagueness  of  meaning  often  becoming  absolutely  unintelligible. 

The  finest  and  most  distinct  of  his  longer  poems  is  Alastor,  or 
the  Spirit  of  Solitude.  In  its  blank  verse  he  depicts  the  sufferings 
of  such  a  character  as  his  own, — a  being  of  the  warmest  sympathies, 
and  of  the  loftiest  aspirations,  driven  into  solitude  and  despair  by 
the  ingratitude  of  his  kind,  who  are  incapable  of  understanding 
and  sympathizing  with,  his  aims.  Its  descriptions  are  beautiful : 
woodland  and  river  scenery  are  painted  with  a  wealth  of  tropical 
luxuriance  that  places  Shelley  in  the  foremost  rank  among  pictorial 
poets.  The  Revolt  of  Islam,  Hellas,  and  The  Witch  of  Atlas,  are  vio- 
lent invectives  against  kingcraft,  priestcraft,  religion,  and  marriage, 
alternating  with  airy  and  exquisite  pictures  of  scenes  and  beings  of 
superhuman  and  unearthly  splendor.  The  defect  of  these  poems  is 
the  extreme  obscurity  of  their  general  drift.  Although  particular 
objects  stand  out  with  the  vividness  and  splendor  of  reality,  and 
are  lighted  up  with  a  dazzling  glow  of  imagination,  the  effect  of  the 
whole  is  singularly  vague  and  uncertain. 

Two  important  works  of  Shelley  are  dramatic  in  form — Pro* 
metheus  Unbound  and  The  Cenci.  The  Prometheus  is  one  of  the 
wildest  and  most  unintelligible  of  all  his  writings ;  still  it  contains 
numberless  passages  of  the  highest  beauty  and  sublimity.  It 
breathes  a  fierce  hostility  to  social  systems,  and  intense  love  for 
humanity  in  the  abstract.  Many  of  the  descriptive  passages  are 
sublime ;  and  noble  bursts  of  lyric  harmony  alternate  with  the 
wildest  personifications  and  the  strongest  invective.  The  Cenci 
is  founded  on  the  famous  crime  of  Beatrice  di  Cenci.  Driven  to 
parricide  by  the  diabolical  wickedness  of  her  father,  she  suffered 
the  penalty  of  death  at  Rome.  In  spite  of  several  powerful  and 
striking  scenes,  the  piece  is  of  a  morbid  and  uupleasing  character, 
though  the  language  is  vigorous  and  masculine. 


312  JOHN     KEATS. 

Shelley  had  a  desperate  hostility  to  marriage ;  and  his  narrative 
poem  of  Rosalind  and  Helen  is  an  elaborate  plea  against  that  insti- 
tution. In  the  poem  of  Adonais  he  has  given  us  a  touching  lament 
on  the  early  death  of  Keats,  whose  short  career  gave  such  a  noble 
foretaste  of  poetical  genius  as  would  have  made  him  one  of  the 
greatest  writers  of  his  age.  One  of  the  most  imaginative,  and  at 
the  same  time  one  of  the  obscurest,  of  Shelley's  poems  is  The  Sensi- 
tive Plant.  It  combines  the  qualities  of  mystery  and  fancifulness  to 
the  highest  degree,  perpetually  stimulating  the  reader  with  a  desire 
to  penetrate  the  meaning  symbolized  in  the  luxuriant  description 
of  the  garden  and  the  plant.  Many  of  his  detached  lyrics  are  of 
inexpressible  beauty.  The  Ode  to  a  tycylarlc  (283)  breathes  the 
very  rapture  of  the  bird's  soaring  song.  Wild  and  picturesque 
imagery  abounds  in  the  poem  of  The  Cloud. 

John  Keats  (1796-1821)  was  born  in  Moorfields,  London,  and, 
in  his  fifteenth  year,  was  apprenticed  to  a  surgeon.  During  his  ap- 
prenticeship he  devoted  most  of  his  time  to  poetry,  and  in  1817  he 
published  a  juvenile  volume.  His  long  poem,  Endymion,  followed 
in  1818  (289).  It  was  severely  censured  by  The  Quarterly  Review, 
an  attack  erroneously  described  as  the  cause  of  his  death.  He  had 
a  constitutional  tendency  to  consumption,  which  would  have  de- 
veloped itself  under  any  circumstances.  For  the  recovery  of  his 
health  he  went  to  Rome,  where  he  died.  In  the  previous  year  he 
had  published  another  volume  of  poems,  and  a  fragment  of  his 
remarkable  poem  entitled  Hyperion  (SSI). 

It  was  the  misfortune  of  Keats  to  be  either  extravagantly  praised 
or  unmercifully  condemned.  What  is  most  remarkable  in  his  works 
is  the  wonderful  profusion  of  figurative  language,  often  exquisitely 
beautiful  and  luxuriant,  but  sometimes  fantastical  and  far-fetched. 
One  word,  one  image,  one  rhyme  suggests  another,  till  we  lose 
sight  of  the  original  idea,  smothered  in  its  own  luxuriance.  Keats 
deserves  high  praise  for  one  very  original  merit :  he  has  treated  the 
classical  mythology  in  a  way  absolutely  new,  representing  the 
Pagan  deities  not  as  mere  abstractions  of  art,  nor  as  mere  crea- 
tures of  popular  belief,  but  giving  them  passions  and  affections  like 
our  own,  though  highly  purified  and  idealized.  In  Hyperion,  in 
the  Ode  to  Pan  (wliich  appears  in  "Endymion "),  in  the  Verses  on  a 
Grecian  Urn  (288),  we  find  a  strain  of  classic  imagery,  combined 


LEIGH     HUNT.  313 

with  a  perception  of  natural  loveliness  inexpressibly  rich  and 
delicate.  Keats  was  a  true  poet.  If  we  consider  his  extreme 
youth  and  delicate  health,  his  solitary  and  interesting  self-instruc- 
tion, the  severity  of  the  attacks  made  upon  him  by  hostile  and 
powerful  critics,  and,  above  all,  the  original  richness  and  pic- 
turesqueness  of  his  conceptions  and  imagery,  even  when  they  run  to 
waste,  he  appears  to  be  one  of  the  greatest  of  young  poets. 
~  -  Thomas  Campbell  (1777-1844)  was  born  at  Glasgow,  and  was 
educated  at  the  University  in  that  city,  where  he  distinguished 
himself  by  his  translations  from  the  Greek  poets.  In  his  twenty- 
second  year,  he  published  his  Pleasures  of  Hope  (29O),  and  was  en- 
couraged by  having  it  received  with  hearty  enthusiasm.  Shortly 
afterwards  he  travelled  abroad,  where  the  warlike  scenes  he  wit- 
nessed, and  the  battle-fields  he  visited,  suggested  several  noble 
lyrics.  To  the  seventh  edition  of  Tlie  Pleasures  of  Hope,  published 
in  1802,  were  added  the  verses  on  the  battle  of  tHohenlinden]  (293), 
Ye  Mariners  of  England  (292),  the  most  popular  of  his  songs,  and 
(LochicPs  Warning^  In  the  following  year  he  settled  in  London, 
married,  and  commenced  in  earnest  the  pursuit  of  literature  as  a 
profession.  In  1843  he  retired  to  Boulogne,  where  he  died  in  the 
following  year.  His  body  was  returned  to  England  and  interred  in 
Westminster  Abbey. 

In  the  circle  of  poets  with  Byron,  Shelley,  and  Keats,  outliving 
them  by  many  years,  the  names  of  Leigh  Hunt  and  Walter  Savage 
Landor  must  be  mentioned. 

James  Henry  Leigh  Hunt  (1784-1859)  was  born  at  Southgate, 
Middlesex,  and  received  his  education  at  Christ's  Hospital.  In 
1805  he  joined  his  brother  in  editing  a  paper  called  The  News,  and 
shortly  afterwards  established  The  Examiner.  A  conviction  for 
libel  on  the  Prince  Regent  detained  him  in  prison  for  two  years. 
Soon  after  leaving  prison  he  published  the  Story  of  Rimini,  an 
Italian  tale  in  verse  (1816),  containing  some  exquisite  poetry. 
About  1818  he  started  The  Indicator,  a  weekly  paper,  in  imitation 
of  The  Spectator ;  and  in  1822  he  went  to  Italy,  to  assist  Lord  Byron 
and  Shelley  in  their  projected  paper  called  The  Liberal.  Shelley 
died  soon  after  Hunt's  arrival  in  Italy;  and  though  Hunt  was 
kindly  received  by  Byron,  and  lived  for  a  time  in  his  house,  there 
was  no  congeniality  between  them.  Returning  to  England,  he  con- 
tinued to  wiite  for  periodicals,  and  published  various  poems.  His 


314  LAX  DOR,     HOOD. 

poetry  is  graceful,  sprightly,  and  full  of  fancy.  Although  not  pos- 
sessing much  soul  and  emotion,  here  and  there  his  verse  is  lit  up 
with  wit.  or  glows  with  tenderness  and  grace.  His  prose  writings 
consist  of  essays,  collected  under  the  titles  of  The  Indicator  and 
The  Companion  ;  Sir  Ralph  Esther,  a  novel ;  The  Old  Court  Suburb  ; 
his  lives  of  Wycherlcy,  Congreve,  Vanbrugh,  and  Farquhar,  prefixed 
to  his  edition  of  their  dramatic  writings,  and  many  others. 

The  father  of  Walter  Savage  Landor  (1775-1864)  was  a  gentle- 
man of  wealth,  residing  in  Warwickshire.  The  son  entered  Rugby 
at  an  early  age,  and  thence  proceeded  to  Trinity  College,  Oxford  ; 
but  he  left  the  University  without  a  degree.  As  a  poet  he  stands 
with  Leigh  Hunt  between  the  age  of  Scott  and  Byron  and  the  age 
of  Tennyson  and  Browning.  In  1795  his  first  work — a  volume  of 
poems — appeared,  followed  early  in  the  present  century  by  a  trans- 
lation into  Latin  of  Gebir,  one  of  his  own  English  poems.  Landor 
had  facility  in  classical  composition,  and  he  appeared  to  have  the 
power  of  transporting  himself  into  the  times  and  sentiments  of 
Greece  and  Rome.  This  is  still  more  clearly  seen  in  the  Heroic 
Idyls  in  Latin  verse ;  and  the  reproduction  of  Greek  thought  in 
The  Hellenics  is  one  of  the  most  successful  attempts  of  its  kind. 
Shortly  after  the  death  of  his  father,  the  poet  took  up  his  abode  en 
the  Continent,  where  he  resided  during  the  rest  of  his  life,  making 
occasional  visits  to  his  native  country.  The  republican  spirit 
which  led  him  to  take  part  as  a  volunteer  in  the  Spanish  rising  of 
1808  continued  to  burn  fiercely  to  the  last.  He  even  went  so  far  as 
to  defend  tyrannicide,  and  boldly  offered  a  pension  to  the  widow 
of  any  one  who  would  murder  a  despot.  Between  1820  and  1830 
he  was  engaged  upon  his  greatest  work,  Imaginary  Conversations 
of  Literary  Men  avl  Statesmen.  This  was  followed  in  1831  by 
Poems,  Letters  by  a  Consertative,  Satire  on  Satirists  (1836),  Peniamc- 
ron  and  Pentalogue  (1837),  and  a  long  series  in  prose  and  poetry,  of 
which  the  chief  are  The  Hellenics  Enlarged  and  Completed,  Dry  Micks 
Fagoted,  and  The  Last  Fruit  off  an  Old  Tree.  He  died  at  Florence, 
an  exile  from  his  country,  misunderstood  by  the  majority  of  his 
countrymen,  but  highly  appreciated  by  those  who  could  rightly 
estimate  the  works  he  has  left. 

Thomas  Hood  (1799-1845)  has  unfortunately  been  regarded 
only  as  a  humorist ;  but  "  pathos,  sensibility,  indignation  against 
wrong,  enthusiasm  for  human  improvement — all  these  were  his." 


BROWNING.  315 

"  His  pen  touched  alike  the  springs  of  laughter  and  the  sources  of 
tears."     He  was  associated  with  the  brilliant  circle  who  then  con- 
tributed to  The  London  Magazine;  among  whom  were  Lamb,  Hazlitt, 
the  Smiths,  and  De  Quincey.     His  magazine  articles  were  followed 
by  Whims  and  Oddities.     Hood  became  at  once  a  popular  writer; 
but  in  the  midst  of  his  success  a  business  house  failed,  involving  him 
in  its  losses.     The  poet,  disdaining  to  seek  the  aid  of  bankruptcy, 
emulated  the  example  of  Scott,  and  determined  by  the  economy  of 
a  life  in  Germany  to  pay  off  the  debt  thus  involuntarily  contracted. 
In  1835  the  family  took  up  their  residence  in  Coblenz;  from  thence, 
removed  to  Ostend  (1837) ;  and  returned  to  London  in  1840.     He 
was  editor  of  the  New  Monthly  from  1841  until  1843,  when  the  first* 
number  of  his  own  Magazine  was  issued.     A  pension  was  obtained^, 
for  him  in  1844 ;  and  he  died  in  the  following  year. 

Hood  was  not  a  creative  genius.     He  has  given  little  indicatioi 
of  the  highest  imaginative  faculty  ;  but  his  fancy  was  delicate,  and(h 
full  of  graceful  play.     He  possessed  in  a  remarkable  degree  the 
power  of  perceiving   the    ridiculous   and   the   odd.      His   wo^ds^ 
seemed   to  break  up   into  the   queerest   syllables.     His  wit  waVX, 
caustic,  and  yet  it  bore  with  itself  its  remedy.     It  was  never  coarse. 
An  impurity  even  in  suggestion  cannot  be  found  in  Hood's  pages. 
With  the  humor  was   associated  a  tender  pathos.     The  Dcath- 
(323)  is  one  of  the  most  affecting  little  poems  in  our  language, 
and  is  equalled  only  by  another  of  his  ballads  entitled  Love's  Eclipse.  - 
Amongst  his  larger  works,  the  (Plea^  the  Midsummer^  Fairies] and 
Hewjmdjjeander,  are  the  most  elaborate.     The  descriptive  parts  in 
both  are  full  of  careful  observation  of  nature,  and  most  musical  ex- 
pression of  her  beauties.     The  best  known  of  his  poems  are  The 
(Bridge  <?/  £&gA^(322),  Eugene  Aram,  and  the  fora?  o£the£hirt\    In 
them  the  comic  element  IsTentfrely  wanting.     His  poems  usually     S^ 
have  a  blending  of  humor  and  of  pathos ;  and  in  their  humor  there  " 
is  an  earnest  purpose.     "  He  tempts  men  to  laugh,  and  then  leads      X 
them  to  pity  and  relieve."  yT 

The  worthiest  poet  among  women  is  Elizabeth  Barrett  Brown- 
ing (1809-1861).  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  merchant  of 
London,  and  by  good  fortune  received  what  has  been  allowed  to 
comparatively  few  of  her  sex,  a  good  education.  In  the  Latin  and 
Greek  literature  she  was  well  versed.  The  delicacy  of  her  health 
prevented  her  from  doing  the  toilsome  work  of  the  most  laborious 


316  BROWNING. 

students ;  yet  her  acquisitions  were  so  great  that  in  her  youth  she 
was  as  famous  for  her  learning  as  for  her  genius.  Illness  did  not 
keep  her  from  books.  By  a  varied  and  extensive  course  of  reading, 
and  by  her  meditation,  she  prepared  herself  for  her  place  among  the 
poets.  Her  first  acknowledged  work  was  a  translation  of  the  Pro- 
metheus Sound,  published  in  1838.  Next  appeared  a  collection  of 
poems  in  1844,  establishing  her  reputation  as  the  strongest,  most 
high-toned  and  most  melodious  of  female  poets.  In  1846  she  was 
married  to  Robert  Browning,  and  went  with  him  to  Italy  for  the 
improvement  of  her  health.  From  that  time  her  sympathies  with 
Italian  aspirations  were  so  intense  that  they  color  nearly  all  of  her 
writings.  Her  Casa  Guidi  Windows  gives  her  impressions  of  what 
she  saw  of  Italian  life  from  her  home,  the  Casa  Guido,  in  Florence. 
Her  greatest  work,  and  in  the  estimation  of  some  critics  the  noblest 
poem  of  the  present  century,  is/Aurora  Leigh j  This  she  herself 
pronounces  "  the  most  mature  of  my  works,  and  the  one  into  which 
my  highest  convictions  upon  Life  and  Art  have  entered."  In  1856 
she  left  England  for  the  last  time,  dying  at  Florence  in  1861. 

This  woman  of  deep  emotion,  of  high-toned  thought,  of  devout 
spirit,  with  soul  strong  enough  to  have  filled  the  body  of  a  Joan  of 
Arc,  shut  in  her  darkened  chamber,  reading  "  almost  every  book 
worth  reading  in  almost  every  language,"  mingling  with  a  few 
friends,  her  heart  going  forth  in  sympathy  with  the  wretched  and 
down-trodden,  gathered  up  her  strength,  and  put  her  soul  into  her 
verse,  now  with  all  the  passion  of  Aurora  Leigh,  and  now  in  the 
tenderer  sonnets  full  of  pathos  and  love.  It  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at,  that  some  of  her  writing  has  been  called  spasmodic.  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing has  not  the  calm,  unfailing  flow  of  thought  and  feeling  found 
in  her  only  modern  superior  in  England,  the  Laureate.  But  the 
woman  rises  to  heights  on  which  the  man  has  never  stood,  and 
finds  deeps  which  he  has  never  fathomed.  Her  style  is  therefore 
often  rugged,  unfinished,  and  at  times  utterly  without  rhythm. 

The  sadness  pervading  all  the  writings  of  Mrs.  Browning  is  what 
might  be  expected  from  such  a  life  as  hers.  Her  ill  health,  the 
sudden  loss  of  her  younger  brother,  the  long-continued  confinement 
in  that  chamber  where  no  sunbeam  ever  cheered,  must  all  have 
deepened  the  sorrow  in  which  she  ever  dwelt.  Her  verse  is  there- 
fore but  rarely  sportive.  She  deals  sometimes  in  satire,  but  satire 
is  always  sad.  Her  own  idea  of  the  poet's  work  seems  to  bear  this 


HEMAXS.  317 

view:  "  Poetry  has  been  as  serious  a  thing  tome  as  life  itself; 
and  life  has  been  a  very  serious  thing.  •  I  never  mistook  pleasure 
for  the  final  cause  of  poetry,  nor  leisure  for  the  hour  of  the  poet." 
From  such  a  view  of  poetry  and  life,  we  cannot  wonder  at  the 
moral  purpose  found  in  all  her  writing. 

Mrs.  Felicia  Dorothea  Remans  (1793-1835),  whose  maiden 
name  was  Browne,  has  written  poems  that  are  extensively  read. 
Her  subjects  find  a  ready  admission  to  the  hearts  of  all  classes.  The 
style  is  graceful,  but  presenting,  as  Scott  said,  "  too  many  flowers 
for  the  fruit."  There  is  little  intellectual  or  emotional  force  about 
her  poetry,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  will  soon  be  forgotten.  A  few 
of  the  smaller  pieces  will  perhaps  remain  as  English  gems,  such  as 
The  Graves  of  a  Household,  and  the  Homes  of  England. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

THE  LAKE  SCHOOL— WORDSWORTH,  COLERIDGE  AND  SOUTHEY 

WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH. 

"  Him  who  nttered  nothing  base."— Alfred  Tennyson. 

"I  do  not  know  a  man  more  to  be  venerated  for  uprightness  of  heart  and^lofti- 
ness  of  genius."—  Waller  Scott. 

"  To  feel  for  the  first  time  a  communion  with  his  mind,  is  to  discover  loftier 
faculties  in  our  own."—  Thomas  N.  Talfourd. 

"Whatever  the  world  may  think  of  me  or  of  my  poetry  is  now  of  little  conse- 
quence ;  but  one  thing  is  a  comfort  of  my  old  age,  that  none  of  my  works  written 
since  the  days  of  my  early  youth,  contains  a  line  which  I  should  wish  to  blot  out 
because  it  panders  to  the  baser  passions  of  our  nature.  This  is  a  comfort  to  me  ; 
1  can  do  no  mischief  by  my  works  when  I  am  gone."—  William  Wordsworth. 

William  Wordsworth  (1770-1850),  the  founder  of  the  so-called 
Lake  School  of  poetry,  was  born  at  Cockemiouth,  in  the  north  of 
England  (294- 3OO).  He  was  left  an  orphan  very  early  in  life. 
In  his  ninth  year  he  was  sent  to  a  school  at  Hawkshead,  in  the 
most  picturesque  district  of  Lancashire,  where  his  love  for  the 
beauties  of  creation  was  rapidly  developed.  After  taking  his  de- 
gree at  Cambridge  in  1791,  he  went  to  France,  and  eagerly  em- 
braced the  ideas  of  the  wildest  champions  of  liberty  in  that  country. 
His  political  sentiments,  however,  became  gradually  modified,  till 
in  later  life  they  settled  down  into  steady  conservatism  in  all  ques- 
tions of  church  and  state.  In  1793  he  published  two  little  poems, 
An  Evening  Walk,  and  Descriptive  Sketches.  Their  metre  and  lan- 
guage are  of  the  school  of  Pope ;  but  they  are  the  work  of  a  prom- 
ising pupil,  and  not  of  a  master.  In  the  following  year  he  com- 
pleted the  story  of  Salisbury  Plain,  or,  Guilt  and  Sorrow.  In  regard 
to  time  it  is  separated  from  the  Descriptive  Sketches  by  a  span,  but 
iir  merit  they  are  parted  by  a  gulf.  He  had  ceased  to  write  in  the 


WORDSWORTH.  319 

train  of  Pope ;  and  composed  in  the  stanza  of  his  later  favorite, 
Spenser.  There  is  an  exquisite  simplicity  and  polish  in  the  lan- 
guage. In  his  twenty-sixth  year,  just  as  he  was  finding  it  necessary 
to  enter  some  regular  business  for  the  purpose  of  earning  a  liveli- 
hood, he  found  himself  placed  in  what  was  affluence  to  him,  by  re- 
ceiving a  legacy  of  £900,  with  the  request  that  he  would  devote 
himself  to  literary  work.  Thoughts  of  the  law,  and  attempts  to 
earn  money 'by  writing  for  newspapers  were  abandoned.  He  settled 
with  his  sister  in  a  quiet  country  place  in  Somersetshire,  and  began 
his  long  devotion  to  the  muse.  His  second  experiment  was  the 
tragedy  of  The  Borderers,  a  work  considered  as  an  unqualified 
failure  when  it  first  appeared.  In  1797  Coleridge  went  to  live  in 
the  neighborhood,  and  formed  a  close  friendship  with  Wordsworth 
and  his  sister.  The  following  year  they  started  on  a  tour  in  Ger- 
many. To  furnish  funds  for  the  journey  they  published  a  volume 
together,  entitled  Lyrical  Ballads.  The  first  poem  was  Coleridge's 
Ancient  Mariner,  and  the  other  pieces  were  by  Wordsworth.  Of 
these,  three  or  four  were  in  Wordsworth's  finest  manner;  but  they 
did  not  save  his  name  from  ridicule  and  censure. 

Returning  to  England,  Wordsworth  and  his  sister  settled  at 
Grasrnere,  in  the  Lake  District.  Coleridge  and  Southey  resided 
near  them.  From  this  fact  they  came  to  be  spoken  of  as  the  Lake 
School.  The  name,  originally  applied  contemptuously,  came  to  be 
the  distinguishing  title  of  these  friends.  Wordsworth  now  set 
himself  to  work  to  inculcate  his  peculiar  views  of  poetry.  Not 
disheartened  by  the  unpopularity  of  his  first  attempt,  he  promptly 
issued  a  new  edition  of  Lyrical  Ballads,  adding  thirty-seven  pieces 
to  the  original  collection.  At  this  time  he  was  working  on  a 
biographical  poem,  The  Prelude,  published  a  half  century  after  its 
composition. 

A  debt  of  £8500  due  to  his  father  at  the  time  of  his  death,  was 
paid  to  the  poet  in  1802.  This  increase  of  his  fortune  enabled  him 
to  marry.  In  1807  he  published  two  new  volumes  of  Poems,  con- 
taining the  Song  at  the  Feast  of  Brougham  Castle,  and  many  more  of 
his  choicest  pieces.  Here  appeared  his  first  sonnets,  and  several 
of  them  are  still  ranked  among  his  happiest  efforts.  Wordsworth's 
next  publication  was  in  prose.  His  indignation  arose  at  the  grasp- 
ing tyranny  of  Napoleon ;  and  in  1809  be  put  forth  a  pamphlet 
against  the  Convention  of  Cintra.  The  sentiments  were  spirit- 


320  WORDSWORTH. 

stirring,  but  the  manner  of  conveying  them  was  not,  and  his  pro- 
test passed  unheeded.  His  great  work,  The  Excursion,  appeared  in 
1814.  This  is  a  fragment  of  a  projected  great  moral  epic,  discuss- 
ing and  solving  the  mightiest  questions  concerning  God,  nature, 
and  man,  our  moral  constitution,  our  duties,  and  our  hopes.  Its 
dramatic  interest  is  exceedingly  small ;  its  structure  is  very  faulty  ; 
and  the  characters  represented  in  it  are  devoid  of  life  and  proba- 
bility. On  the  other  hand,  so  sublime  are  the  subjects  discussed, 
so  lofty  is  their  tone,  and  so  deep  a  glow  of  humanity  is  perceptible 
throughout,  that  no  honest  reader  can  study  this  grand  composi- 
tion without  ever-increasing  reverence  and  delight. 

Tlie.  White  Doc  of  Eyhtone,  published  in  1815,  is  Wordsworth's 
only  narrative  poem  of  any  length.  The  incidents  are  of  a  simple  and 
mournful  kind.  Peter  Bell  was  published  in  1819,  and  was  received 
with  a  shout  of  ridicule.  The  poet  stated  in  the  dedication  that 
the  work  had  been  completed  twenty  years,  and  that  he  had  con- 
tinued correcting  it  in  the  interval  to  render  it  worthy  of  a  perma- 
nent place  in  our  national  literature.  It  is  meant  to  be  serious,  and 
is  certainly  not  facetious,  but  there  is  so  much  farcical  absurdity  of 
detail  and  language  that  the  mind  is  revolted.  Between  1830 
and  1840  the  flood  which  floated  him  into  favor  rose  to  its 
height.  Scott  and  Byron  had  in  succession  entranced  the  world. 
They  had  now  withdrawn,  and  no  third  king  arose  to  demand 
homage.  It  was  in  the  lull  that  the  less  thrilling  notes  of  the  Lake 
bard  obtained  a  hearing.  It  was  during  this  time  that  he  pub- 
lished his  Ecclesiastical  Sonnets  and  Yarrow  Revisited  ;  and  in  1842 
he  brought  forth  a  complete  collection  of  his  poems.  His  fame 
was  now  firmly  established.  On  the  death  of  Southey  in  1843  he 
was  made  Poet  Laureate.  He  died  on  April  23,  1850.  when  he  had 
just  completed  his  eightieth  year. 

The  poetry  of  Wordsworth  has  passed  through  two  phases  of 
criticism  ;  in  the  first  his  defects  were  chiefly  noted,  and  in  the 
second  his  merits.  We  have  arrived  at  the  third  era,  when  the 
majority  of  readers  are  just  to  both.  A  fair  estimate  of  Words- 
worth's poetry  is  given  by  an  acute  writer  in  the  Quarterly  Review  :* 
"  It  is  constantly  asserted  that  he  effected  a  reform  in  the  language 
of  poetry,  that  he  found  the  public  bigoted  to  a  vicious  and  flow- 

*  Vol.  XCII.,  p.  233,  eeq. 


WORDSWORTH.  321 

erv  diction,  which  seemed  to  mean  a  great  deal  and  really  meant 
nothing,  and  that  he  led  them  back  to  sense  and  simplicity.  The 
claim  appears  to  us  to  be  a  fanciful  assumption,  refuted  by  the  facts 
of  literary  history.  Feebler  poetasters  were  no  doubt  read  when 
"Wordsworth  began  to  write  than  would  now  command  an  audience, 
however  small ;  but  they  had  no  real  hold  upon  the  public,  and 
Cowper  was  the  only  popular  bard  of  the  day.  His  masculine  and 
unadorned.  English  was  relished  in  every  cultivated  circle  in  the 
land,  and  Wordsworth  was  the  child  and  not  the  father  of  a  reac- 
tion, which,  after  all,  has  been  greatly  exaggerated.  Goldsmith 
was  the  most  celebrated  of  Cowper's  immediate  predecessors,  and 
it  will  not  be  pretended  that  The  Deserted  Village  and  The  Traveller 
are  among  the  specimens  of  inane  phraseology.  Burns  had  died 
before  Wordsworth  had  attracted  notice.  The  wonderful  Peasant's 
performances  were  admired  by  none  more  than  by  Wordsworth 
himself:  were  they  not  already  far  more  popular  than  the  La'ke- 

poet's  have  ever  been — or  ever  will  be  ? Whatever 

influence  Wordsworth  may  have  exercised  on  poetic  style,  be  it 
great  or  small,  was  by  deviating  in  practice  from  the  principles  of 
composition  for  which  he  contended.  Both  his  theory,  and  the 
poems  which  illustrate  it,  continue  to  this  hour  to  be  all  but  uni- 
versally condemned.  lie  resolved  to  write  as  the  louver  orders 
talked  ;  and  though  where  the  poor  are  the  speakers  it  would  be  in 
accordance  with  strict  dramatic  propriety,  the  system  would  not  be 
tolerated  in  serious  poetry.  Wordsworth's  rule  did  not  stop  at  the 
wording  of  dialogues.  He  maintained  that  the  colloquial  language 
of  rustics  was  the  most  philosophical  and  enduring  which  the 
dictionary  affords,  and  the  fittest  for  verse  of  every  description. 
.  .  .  .  When  his  finest  verse  is  brought  to  the  test  of  his  prin- 
ciple, they  agree  no  better  than  light  and  darkness.  Here  is  his 
vray  of  describing  the  effects  of  the  pealing  organ  in  King's  College 
Chapel,  with  its  '  self-poised  roof,  scooped  into  ten  thousand  cells :' 

But  from  the  arms  of  silence— list !    O  list— 
The  music  bursteth  into  second  life  : 
The  notes  luxuriate,  every  stone  is  kissed 
With  sound,  or  ghost  of  sound,  in  mazy  strife  1 ' 

This  is  to  write  like  a  splendid  poet,  but  it  is  not  to  write  as  rus- 
tics talk.  A  second  canon  laid  down  by  Wordsworth  was,  that 
poetic  diction  is,  or  ought  to  be,  in  all  respects  the  same  with  the 


332  \V  0  K  D  S  W  0  R  T  H,     COLERIDGE.' 

language  of  prose  ;  and  as  prose  has  a  wide  range,  and  numbers 
among  its  triumphs  such  luxuriant  eloquence  as  that  of  Jeremy 
Taylor,  the  principle,  if  just,  would  be  no  less  available  for  the 
advocates  of  ornamental  verse  than  for  the  defence  of  the  homely 
style  of  the  Lyrical  Ballads.  But  the  proposition  is  certainly  too 
broadly  stated  ;  and,  though  the  argument  holds  good  for  the  ad- 
versary, because  the  phraseology  which  is  not  too  rich  for  prose 
can  never  be  considered  too  tawdry  for  poetry,  yet  it  will  not  war- 
rant the  conclusions  of  Wordsworth,  that  poetry  should  never  rise 
above  prose,  or  disdain  to  descend  to  its  lowest  level." 

The  following  references  are  to  interesting  discussions  of  Wordsworth  and  his 
poetry:  Reed's  British  Poets,  Lecture  XV.;  \Vil?on,  in  the  British  Essayists;  The 
North  American  Revieiu,  Vol.  C.,  p.  508  ;  Craik's  English  Literature  and  Language, 
Vol.  II.,  p.  453  ;  De  Quincey's  Essays  on  the  Poets  ;  Coleridge's  Biographia  Literaria, 
Chap.  XIV.  ;  Hazlitt's  Lectures  on  the  English  Poets  ;  Jeffrey,  in  the  British  Essay- 
ists ;  Talfourd,  iu  the  British  Essay  tuts;  Taine's  English  Literature,  Vol.  II. 


Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge  (1773-1834)  was  born  at  Ottery-St.- 
Mary,  in  Devonshire,  and  was  educated  at  Christ's  Hospital; 
whence  he  proceeded  to  Jesus  College,  Cambridge  (SOl-SOT). 
Leaving  the  University  in  his  second  year  he  enlisted  in  the 
Dragoons,  under  the  assumed  name  of  Comberbacke.  One  of  the 
officers,  learning  his  real  history,  communicated  with  his  friends, 
by  whom  his  discharge  was  at  once  effected.  After  forming  a  wild 
scheme  with  Southey,  for  a  model  republic  to  be  known  as  the 
''  Pantisocracy,"  and  to  be  located  on  the  banks  of  the  Susquehanna, 
he  abandoned  it  for  want  of  funds,  and  then  turned  his  attention  to 
literature.  He  had  previously  written  the  first  act  of  the  Fall  of 
Pobespierre.  In  1795  he  married  Miss  Sarah  Fricker,  a  sister  of 
Southey's  wife,  and  during  the  first  three  years  after  his  marriage 
he  lived  in  Wordsworth's  neighborhood.  His  share  in  the  cele- 
brated Lyrical  Ballads,  published  in  1798,  has  been  already  men- 
tioned. At  this  period  his  tragedy,  Remorse,  was  written.  In  1798 
he  visited  Germany,  where  he  studied  the  language  and  literature. 
After  his  return  he  took  up  his  abode  in  the  Lake  District,  near 
Wordsworth  and  Southey.  He  subsequently  spent  some  time  in 
Malta.  In  1810  he  quitted  the  Lakes,  leaving  his  wife  and  children 
wholly  dependent  upon  Southey,  —  an  illustration  of  his  indifference 
to  personal  and  pecuniary  obligations.  He  took  up  his  residence 


COLERIDGE.  323 

in  London,  finding  a  home  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Gillraan  at  Highgate, 
where  he  died,  July  25,  1834. 

Carlyle  paints  Coleridge's  portrait  in  these  words : — "  Brow  and 
head  were  round  and  of  massive  weight ;  but  the  face  was  flabby 
and  irresolute.  The  deep  eyes,  of  a  light  hazel,  were  as  full  of 
sorrow  as  of  inspiration  ;  confused  pain  looked  mildly  from  them, 
as  in  a  kind  of  mild  astonishment.  The  whole  figure  and  air,  good 
and  amiable  otherwise,  might  be  called  flabby  and  irresolute ;  ex- 
pressive of  weakness  under  possibility  of  strength.  He  hung  loosely 
on  his  limbs,  with  knees  bent,  and  stooping  attitude ;  in  walking, 
he  rather  shuffled  than  decisively  stepped ;  and  a  lady  once  re- 
marked, he  never  could  fix  which  side  of  the  garden-walk  would 
suit  him  best,  but  continually  shifted,  in  cork-screw  fashion,  and 
kept  trying  both.  A  heavy-laden,  high-aspiring,  and  surely  much- 
suflering  man." 

The  literary  character  of  Coleridge  resembles  some  vast  but 
unfinished  palace;  all  is  gigantic,  beautiful,  and  rich,  but  nothing 
is  complete,  nothiag  compact.  He  was  all  his  days,  from  his 
youth  to  his  death,  laboring,  meditating,  projecting ;  and  yet  all 
that  he  has  left  us  bears  marks  of  imperfection.  His  mind  was 
dreamy,  his  genius  was  multiform,  many-sided,  and  for  this  reason, 
perhaps,  could  not  at  once  seize  upon  the  right  point  of  view.  No 
man,  probably,  ever  thought  more,  and  more  intensely,  than  Cole- 
ridge ;  few  ever  possessed  a  vaster  treasury  of  learning  and  knowl- 
edge ;  and  yet  how  little  has  he  given  us,  or  rather  how  few  of  his 
works  are  in  any  way  worthy  of  the  undoubted  majesty  of  his 
genius !  Materials,  indeed,  he  has  left  us  in  enormous  quantity — 
a  store  of  thoughts  and  principles,  golden  masses  of  reason,  either 
painfully  sifted  from  the  rubbish  of  obscure  and  forgotten  authors, 
or  dug  up  from  the  rich  depths  of  his  own  mind ;  but  these  are 
still  in  the  state  of  raw  materials,  or  only  partially  worked. 

Coleridge  began  his  life  as  a  Unitarian  and  a  republican ;  but  he 
ultimately  became  from  conviction  a  most  sincere  adherent  to  the 
doctrines  of  the  Anglican  church,  and  an  enthusiastic  defender  of 
a  constitutional  monarchy.  Though  his  best  lyrics,  that  On  the 
Departing  Year,  and  Sunrise  in  the  Valley  of  Chainouni  (3O2)  are 
somewhat  injured  by  their  air  of  effort,  they  are  works  of  singular 
richness  and  exquisite  language.  In  his  translation  of  Schiller's 
WdUenstein,  Coleridge  was  most  successful.  With  almost  all  readers 


*24  COLERIDGE. 

it  will  for  ever  have  the  charm  of  an  original  work.  Indeed,  many 
beautiful  parts  of  the  translation  are  exclusively  the  property  of  the 
English  poet,  who  used  a  manuscript  copy  of  the  German  text  before 
its  publication  by  the  author.  That  Coleridge  had  no  power  of 
true  dramatic  creation  is  seen  in  his  tragedy  of  Remorse;  for  in  it 
he  neither  excites  curiosity  nor  moves  any  strong  degree  of  pity. 
He  was,  however,  a  consummate  critic  of  the  dramatic  productions 
of  others.  He  first  showed  that  the  creator  of  Hamlet  and  Othello 
was  not  only  the  greatest  genius,  but  also  the  most  wonderful 
artist,  that  ever  existed.  He  was  the  first  to  make  some  approach 
to  the  discoveiy  of  those  laws  governing  the  evolutions  of  the 
Shakespearean  drama — the  first  to  give  us  some  faiut  idea  of  the 
length,  and  breadth,  and  depth,  of  that  sea  of  truth  and  beauty. 

Coleridge's  popular  poems,  The  Ancient  Mariner,  (3O4), 
Cliristdbd,  and  the  fragment  called  KuUa  Khan  (3O3),  are  of 
a  mystic,  unreal  character:  indeed,  Coleridge  asserted  that  the 
last  was  actually  composed  in  a  dream — on  affirmation  that  may 
well  be  believed,  for  it  is  a  thousand  times  more  unintelligible 
than  the  general  run  of  dreams.  Like  everything  that  he  ever 
wrote,  the  versification  is  exquisite.  His  language  puts  on  every 
form,  it  expresses  every  sound ;  he  almost  writes  to  the  eye  and  to 
the  ear.  In  point  of  completeness,  exquisite  harmony  of  feeling, 
and  unsurpassable  grace  of  imagery  and  language,  he  has  left 
nothing  superior  to  the  charming  little  poem  entitled  Love,  or 
Oenemeve. 

Coleridge  takes  rank  also  as  a  philosopher.  The  Friend,  the 
Lay  Sermons,  the  Aids  to  Reflection,  and  the  Church  and  State,  exer- 
cised a  potent  influence  upon  the  intellectual  character  of  his 
generation.  But  his  chief  reputation  through  life  was  founded  less 
upon  his  writings  than  upon  his  conversation,*  or  rather  what  may 

*  "I  shall  never  forget  the  effect  his  first  conversation  made  upon  me  at  the  first 
meeting.  It  struck  me  as  something  not  only  out  of  the  ordinary  course  of  things, 
but  as  an  intellectual  exhibition  altogether  matchless.  The  party  was  unusually 
1  :rge,  but  the  presence  of  Coleridge  concentrated  all  attention  towards  himself. 
The  viands  were  unusually  costly,  and  the  banquet  was  at  once  rich  and  varied; 
but  there  seemed  to  be  no  dish  like  Coleridge's  conversation  to  feed  upon — and  no 
information  so  varied  as  his  own.  The  orator  rolle:l  himself  upon  his  chair,  and 
gave  the  most  unrestrained  indulgence  to  his  speech— and  how  fraught  with  acute- 
ness  and  originality  was  that  speech,  and  in  what  copious  and  eloquent  periods  did 

it  flow  I For  nearly  two  hours  he  spoke  with  unhesitating  and  uninterrupte 

liuency." — Thomas  Dibdin. 


COLERIDGE,     SOUTHEY.  825 

be  called  his  conversational  oratory ;  for  it  must  have  resembled 
those  disquisitions  of  the  Greek  philosophers  of  which  the  dialogues 
of  Plato  give  some  idea.  It  is  in  fragments  (published  post- 
humously  under  the  title  of  Literary  Remains},  in  casual  remarks 
scribbled  like  Sibylline  leaves,  often  on  the  margin  of  borrowed 
books,  and  in  imperfectly-reported  conversations,  that  we  must 
look  for  proofs  of  Coleridge's  powers.  From  a  careful  study  of 
these  we  shall  conceive  a  high  admiration  of  his  genius,  and  a 
deep  regret  at  the  fragmentary  and  desultory  manifestations  of  his 
powers. 

Robert  Southey  (1774-1843)  was  born  at  Bristol,  where  his 
father  carried  on  the  business  of  a  draper  (3OS-311).  At  the  age 
of  fourteen  he  was  sent  to  the  famous  Westminster  School.  After 
spending  four  years  there,  he  was  expelled  for  writing  an  article 
against  flogging  in  public  schools  and  publishing  it  in  a  periodical 
conducted  by  the  boys.  The  following  year  he  went  to  Oxford, 
and  was  entered  at  Balliol  College.  His  friends  wished  him  to  take 
orders  in  the  church,  but  his  religious  opinions  prevented  him.  He 
lingered  at  Oxford,  until  Coleridge  appeared  with  his  scheme  of 
"  Pantisocracy."  Quitting  Oxford,  Southey  attempted  to  raise 
funds  for  the  enterprise  by  authorship,  and  in  1794  published  a 
small  volume  of  poems,  which  brought  neither  fame  nor  profit. 
His  chief  reliance,  however,  was  on  his  epic  poem  Joan  of  Arc,  for 
which  Joseph  Cottle,  the  patron  of  Coleridge,  offered  him  fifty 
guineas.  In  1795,  Southey  accompanied  his  uncle  to  Lisbon, 
having  been  secretly  married  on  the  morning  of  his  departure.  He 
returned  six  months  afterwards,  and  at  once  began  a  life  of 
patient  literary  toil.  He  had  from  the  outset  an  allowance  of  one 
hundred  and  sixty  pounds  a  year,  yet  he  was  constantly  on  the 
verge  of  poverty,  and  not  even  his  philosophy  and  hopefulness 
were  always  proof  against  the  difficulties  of  his  position.  In  1804 
he  took  up  his  residence  in  Cumberland,  where  he  continued  to 
reside  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  Coleridge  and  Wordsworth 
were  already  there.  From  being  a  sceptic  and  a  republican, 
Southey  became  a  firm  believer  in  Christianity,  and  a  stanch  sup- 
porter of  the  English  Church  and  Constitution.  In  1813  he  waa 
appointed  poet-laureate  ;*  and  in  1885  received  a  pension  of  three 

*  The  honor  was  offered  to  Walter  Scott  at  this  time,  and  he  declined  it. 


326  S  0  U  T  H  E  T  . 

hundred  pounds  a  year  from  the  government.  During  the  last  four 
years  of  his  life  he  had  sunk  into  a  state  of  hopeless  imbecility. 
He  died  March  21,  1843. 

Southey's  industry  \vas  prodigious.  His  life  was  very  quiet, 
and  all  his  time  was  given  to  literary  labor.  One  of  his  letters  to  a 
friend  tells  how  his  days  were  spent : — "  Three  pages  of  history  after 
breakfast ;  then  to  transcribe  and  copy  for  the  press,  or  to  make 
any  selections  and  biographies,  or  what  else  suits  my  humor  till 
dinner-time.  From  dinner-time  till  if  a  I  read,  write  letters,  see 
the  newspaper,  and  very  often  indulge  in  a  siesta.  After  tea  I  go 
to  poetry,  and  correct  and  re-write  and  copy  till  I  am  tired ;  and 
then  turn  to  anything  else  till  supper.  And  this  is  my  life."  The 
list  of  his  writings  amounts  to  one  latndred  and  nine  volumes.  In 
addition  to  these  he  contributed  to  the  Annual  Revitw  fifty-two 
articles,  to  the  Foreign  Quarterly  three,  to  the  Quarterly  ninety-four. 
The  composition  of  these  works  was  a  small  part  of  the  labor  they 
involved  :  they  are  all  full  of  research. 

Southey's  success  as  a  poet  fell  far  short  of  his  ambition.  Joan 
of  Arc,  a  juvenile  production,  was  received  with  favor  by  most  of 
the  critical  journals  on  account  of  its  republican  doctrines.  Madoc, 
completed  in  1799,  was  not  given  to  the  world  till  1805.  Upon  this 
poem  he  was  contented  to  rest  his  fame.  It  is  founded  on  one  of 
the  legends  connected  with  the  early  history  of  America.  Madoc, 
a  Welsh  prince  of  the  twelfth  century,  is  represented  as  making 
the  discovery  of  the  Western  world.  His  contests  with  the  Mexi- 
cans, and  the  ultimate  conversion  of  that  people  from  their  cruel 
idolatry,  form  its  main  action.  Though  the  poem  is  crowded  with 
scenes  of  more  than  possible  splendor, — of  more  than  human 
cruelty,  courage,  and  superstition, — the  effect  is  singularly  languid. 
Thalala  was  published  in  1801,  and  the  Curse  of  Kehama  in  1810. 
The  first  is  a  tale  of  Arabian  enchantment,  full  of  magicians, 
dragons,  and  monsters;  and  in  the  second  the  poet  has  selected  for 
his  groundwork  the  still  more  unmanageable  mythology  of  the 
Hindoos.  The  poems  are  written  in  irregular  and  wandering- 
rhythm — the  Tlwlfiba  altogether  without  rhyme  ;  and  the  language 
abounds  in  an  affected  simplicity,  and  in  obtrusions  of  vulgar  and 
puerile  phraseology.  Kehama  was  followed,  at  an  interval  of  four 
years,  by  Roderick,  the  Last  of  the  Goths,  a  poem  in  blank  verse 
more  modest  and  credible  than  its  predecessors. 


s  o  UTH  E  Y.  327 

The  tone  of  Southey's  poem^  is  too  uniformly  ecstatic  and 
agonizing.  His  personages,  like  his  scenes,  have  something  unreal, 
phantom-like,  dreamy  about  them.  His  robe  of  inspiration  sits 
gracefully  and  majestically  upon  him,  but  it  is  too  voluminous  in  its 
folds,  and  too  heavy  in  its  texture,  for  the  motion  of  real  existence. 

Southey's  prose  works  are  very  numerous  and  valuable  on 
account  of  their  learning.  The  Life  of  Nelson  (311),  written  to  fur- 
nish young  seamen  with  a  simple  narrative  of  the  exploits  of  Eng- 
land's greatest  naval  hero,  has  perhaps  never  been  equalled  for  the 
perfection  of  its  style.  In  his  principal  works — The,  Book  of  the 
Church,  The  Lives  of  the  British  Admirals,  The  Life  of  Wesley,  a  His- 
tory of  Brazil,  and  a  History  of  the  Peninsular  Far— we  find  the 
same  clear,  vigorous  English ;  we  find  also  the  strong  prejudice 
and  violent  political  and  literary  partiality,  which  detract  from  hie 
many  excellent  qualities  as  a  writer  and  as  a  man. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

THE    MODERN    NOVELISTS. 

rpHE  department  of  English  literature  which  has  been  cultivated 
-*-  during  the  latter  half  of  the  last  and  the  first  half  of  the 
present  century  with  the  greatest  assiduity  and  success,  is  prose 
fiction.  To  give  an  idea  of  the  fruitfulness  of  this  branch  of  our 
subject,  it  will  be  advisable  to  classify  the  authors  and  their  pro- 
ductions under  the  two  general  divisions  of  fiction  as  they  were 
set  forth  in  a  preceding  chapter,  viz. :  I.  Romances  properly  so 
called,  i.  e.,  the  narration  of  picturesque  and  romantic  adventures ; 
II.  Novels,  or  pictures  of  real  life  and  society. 

I.  ROMANCES. — The  impulse  to  this  branch  of  composition  was 
first  given  by  Horace  Walpole  (1717-1797)  (326),  the  fastidious 
dilettante  and  brilliant  chronicler  of  the  court  scandal  of  his  clay ; 
a  man  of  singularly  acute  penetration,  of  sparkling  epigram- 
matic style,  but  devoid  of  enthusiasm  and  elevation.  Pie  retired 
eariy  from  political  life,  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  little  fantastic 
Gothic  castle  of  Strawberry  Hill,  to  collect  armor,  medals,  manu- 
scripts, and  painted  glass ;  and  to  chronicle  with  malicious  assi- 
duity, in  his  vast  and  brilliant  correspondence,  the  absurdities, 
follies,  and  weaknesses  of  his  day.  The  Castle  of  Otranto  is  a  short 
tale,  written  with  great  rapidity  and  without  preparation.  It  was 
the  first  successful  attempt  to  take  the  Feudal  Age  as  the  period, 
and  the  passion  of  mysterious,  superstitious  terror  as  the  motive  to 
the  action  of  an  interesting  fiction.  The  manners  are  totally 
absurd  and  unnatural,  the  character  of  the  heroine  being  one  of 
those  inconsistent  portraits  in  which  the  sentimental  languor  of  the 
eighteenth  century  is  superadded  to  the  gentlewoman  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages — in  short,  one  of  those  contradictions  to  be  found  in  all 
the  romantic  fictions  before  Scott. 


RADCLIFFE,     LEWIS.  329 

The  success  of  Walpole's  original  and  cleverly-written  tale  en- 
couraged other  aucl  more  accomplished  artists  to  follow  in  the 
same  track.  The  most  popular  of  this  class  was  Mrs.  Ann  Rad- 
cliffe  (1764-1828),  whose  numerous  romances  appeal  with  power 
to  the  emotion  of  fear.  Her  two  greatest  works  are  The  Romance 
of  the  Forest  and  The  Mysteries  of  Udolpho.  The  scenery  of  Italy 
and  the  south  of  France  pleases  her  fancy  ;  the  ruined  castles  of  the 
Pyrenees  and  Apennines  form  the  theatre,  and  the  dark  passions 
of  profligate  Italian  counts  are  the  moving  power,  of  her  wonderful 
fictions.  Mystery  is  the  whole  spell  ;  the  personages  have  no  more 
individuality  than  the  pieces  of  a  chess-board  ;  but  they  are  made 
the  exponents  of  such  terrible  and  intense  fear,  suffering,  and  sus- 
pense, that  we  sympathize  with  their  fate  as  if  they  were  real.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  century  her  romances  were  held  in  the  highest 
esteem  by  all  readers.  Men  of  letters — Talfourd,  Byron,  Scott — 
applauded  her :  but  her  fame  is  declining,  and  she  is  now  known 
only  by  the  students  of  literature.  The  effect  of  this  kind  of  writ- 
ing was  so  powerful  that  it  was  attempted  by  a  crowd  of  authors. 
Most  of  them  are  forgotten  ;  but  there  are  two  other  names  worthy 
of  special  mention. 

Matthew  Gregory  Lewis  (1775-1818),  a  good-natured,  effem- 
inate man  of  fashion,  the  friend  of  Byron,  and  one  of  the  early 
literary  advisers  of  Scott,  was  the  first  to  introduce  into  England  a 
taste  for  the  infant  German  literature  of  that  day,  with  its  spectral 
ballads  and  enchantments.  He  was  a  man  of  lively  and  childish 
imagination ;  and  besides  his  metrical  translations  of  the  ballads  of 
Burger,  he  published  in  his  twentieth  year  a  prose  romance  called 
The  Jfonk,  one  of  the  boldest  of  hobgoblin  stories.  Mrs.  Shelley 
(1798-1851),  the  wife  of  the  poet,, and  the  daughter  of  William 
Godwin,  wrote  the  powerful  tale  otiFrankenstein.}  Its  hero,  a  young 
student  of  physiology,  succeeds  in  constructing,  out  of  the  horrid 
remnants  of  the  churchyard  and  dissecting-room,  a  monster,  to 
which  he  afterwards  gives  a  spectral  and  convulsive  life.  Some 
of  the  chief  appearances  of  the  monster,  particularly  the  moment 
when  he  begins  to  move  for  the  first  time,  and  towards  the  end 
of  the  book,  among  the  eternal  snows  of  the  arctic  circle,  are 
managed  with  a  striking  and  breathless  effect,  that  makes  us  for  a 
moment  forget  the  extravagance  of  the  tale. 


330  B  U  K  X  i:  Y ,    G  0  D  W  I  X  . 

II.  Our  second  subdivision  —  the  novels  of  real  life  and  tC' 
ciety — is  so  extensive  that  we  can  give  but  a  rapid  glance  at  ite 
principal  productions.  To  do  this  consistently  with  clearness,  WG 
must  begin  rather  far  back,  with  the  novels  of  Miss  Burney. 
Frances  Burney  (1752-1840)  was  the  daughter  of  Dr.  Burney, 
author  of  the  History  of  Music.  While  yet  residing  at  her  father's 
house,  she,  in  moments  of  leisure,  composed  the  novel  of  Evelina, 
published  in  1778.  It  is  said  that  she  did  not  even  communicate 
to  her  father  the  secret  of  her  having  written  it,  until  the  astonish- 
ing success  of  the  fiction  rendered  her  avowal  triumphant  and 
almost  necessary.  Evelina  was  followed  in  1782  by  Cecilia,  a  novel 
of  the.  same  character.  In  1786  Miss  Burney  received  an  appoint- 
ment in  the  household  of  Queen  Charlotte,  where  she  remained  till 
her  marriage  with  Count  d'Arblay,  a  French  refugee  officer.  She 
published  after  her  marriage  a  novel  entitled  Camilla,  and  tv/o 
years  after  her  death  her  Diary  and  Letters  appeared. 

An  eminent  place  in  this  class  of  writers  belongs  to  William 
Godwin  (1756-1836),  a  man  of  truly  powerful  and  original  genius, 
who  devoted  his  whole  life  to  the  propagation  of  social  and  politi- 
cal theories  —  visionary,  indeed,  and  totally  impracticable,  but 
marked  with  the  impress  of  benevolence  and  philanthropy.  His 
long  life  was  incessantly  occupied  with  literary  activity :  he  pro- 
duced an  immense  number  of  works,  some  immortal  for  the  geniua 
and  originality  they  display,  and  all  for  an  intensity  and  gravity 
of  thought,  for  reading  and  erudition.  The  first  work  which 
brought  him  into  notice  was  the  Inquiry  concerning  Political  Jus- 
tice (1793),  a  Utopian  theory  by  which  virtue  and  benevolence 
were  to  be  the  primum  mobile  of  all  human  actions,  and  a  philosoph- 
ical republic  was  to  take  the  place  of  all  our  imperfect  forms  of 
government.  The  first  and  finest  of  his  fictions  is  "Caleb  Williams 
(1794).  Its  chief  didactic  aim  is  to  show  the  misery  and  injustice 
arising  from  the  present  imperfect  constitution  of  society,  and  the 
oppression  of  defective  laws,  not  merely  those  of  the  statute-book, 
but  also  those  of  social  feeling  and  public  opinion.  Caleb  Williams 
is  an  intelligent  peasant-lad,  taken  into  the  service  of  Falkland. 
Falkland,  the  true  hero,  is  an  incarnation  of  honor,  intellect,  benev- 
olence, and  passionate  love  of  fame,  who,  in  a  moment  of  ungov- 
ernable passion,  has  committed  a  murder,  for  which  he  allows  an 
innocent  man  to  be  executed.  This  circumstance,  partly  by  acci- 


G  01)  AY  IX,     EDGE  WORTH.  331 

dent,  partly  by  his  master's  voluntary  confession,  Williams  learns, 
and  is  in  consequence  pursued  through  the  greater  part  of  the  tale 
by  the  unrelenting  persecution  of  Falkland,  who  is  now  led,  by  his 
frantic  and  unnatural  devotion  to  fame,  to  annihilate,  in  Williams, 
the  evidence  of  his  guilt.  The  adventures  of  the  unfortunate  fugi- 
tive, his  dreadful  vicissitudes  of  poverty  and  distress,  the  steady 
pursuit,  the  escapes  and  disguises  of  the  victim,  like  the  agonized 
turnings  and  doublings  of  the  hunted  hare — all  this  is  so  depicted 
that  the  reader  follows  the  story  with  breathless  interest.  At  last 
Caleb  is  accused  by  Falkland  of  robbery,  aud  naturally  discloses 
before  the  tribunal  the  dreadful  secret  which  has  caused  his  long 
persecution,  and  Falkland  dies  of  shame  and  a  broken  heart.  The 
interest  of  this  wonderful  tale  is  indescribable  ;  the  various  scenes 
are  set  before  us  with  something  of  the  minute  reality,  the  dry, 
grave  simplicity  of  Defoe.  "  There  is  no  work  of  fiction  which 
more  rivets  the  attention  —  no  tragedy  which  exhibits  a  struggle 
more  sublime,  or  suffering  more  intense,  than  this  ;  yet  to  produce 
the  effect,  no  complicated  machinery  is  employed,  but  the  springs 
of  action  are  few  and  simple."  * 

At  the  head  of  the  very  large  class  of  women  who,  as  novelists, 
have  adorned  the  more  recent  literature  of  England,  we  must  place 
Maria  Edgeworth  (1767-1849).  Nearly  all  of  her  long  and  useful 
life  was  passed  in  Ireland.  Many  of  her  earlier  works  were  pro- 
duced in  partnership  with  her  father,  Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth, 
a  man  of  eccentric  character,  and  of  great  intellectual  activity. 
The  most  valuable  series  of  Miss  Edgeworth's  educational  stories 
were  the  charming  ta'ss  entitled  Frank,  Ilarry  and  Lucy,  Rosa- 
mond, and  others,  combined  under  the  general  heading  of  Early 
Lessons.  These  are  written  in  the  simplest  style,  and  are  intelligi- 
ble and  intensely  interesting  even  to  very  young  readers ;  while 
the  knowledge  of  character  they  display,  the  naturalness  of  their 
incidents,  and  the  practical  principles  they  inculcate,  make  them 
delightful  even  to  the  adult  reader.  The  first,  the  most  original, 
and  the  best  of  her  stories  is  Castle  Hackrent.  Abounding  in  hu- 
mor and  pathos,  it  sets  forth  with  dramatic  effect  the  follies  and 
vices  of  the  Irish  landlords,  who  have  caused  so  much  of  the  mis- 
ery of  the  Irish  people.  In  the  novels  of  Patronage,  and  The  Ab- 
sentee, other  social  errors,  either  peculiar  to  that  country  or  common 

*  T.  N.  Talfourd. 


332  AUSTEN,    BRONTE,     MITFOKD. 

to  many  countries,  are  powerfully  delineated.  Miss  Edgeworth 
has  done  for  her  countrymen  what  Scott  did  with  such  loving 
genius  for  the  Scottish  people.  The  services  rendered  by  her  to 
the  cause  of  common  sense  are  incalculable.  Walter  Scott  says 
that  "  Some  one  has  described  the  novels  of  Miss  Ed"-eworth  as  a 

o 

sort  of  essence  of  common  sense,  and  the  definition  is  not  inappro- 
priate." The  singular  absence  of  enthusiasm  in  her  writings, 
•whether  religious,  political,  or  social,  only  makes  us  wonder  at  the 
force,  vivacity,  and  consistency  with  which  she  has  drawn  a  large 
and  varied  gallery  of  characters. 

Whoever  desires  to  know  the  life  of  the  rural  gentry  of  Eng- 
land—  a  class  existing  in  no  other  country  —  must  read  Jane 
Austen's  (1775-1817)  novels.  Sense  and  Sensibility,  Pride  and  Preju- 
dice, Mansfield  Park,  and  Emma.  In  these  works  the  reader  will 
find  very  little  variety  and  no  picturesqueness  of  persons,  little  to 
inspire  strong  emotion,  nothing  to  excite  -wonder  or  laughter  ;  but 
he  will  find  admirable  good  sense,  exquisite  discrimination,  and  an 
unrivalled  power  of  easy  and  natural  dialogue.  Of  this  lady,  too, 
Scott  held  a  high  opinion  ;  for  he  says  :  "  That  young  lady  had  a 
talent  for  describing  the  involvements,  feelings,  and  characters  of 
ordinary  life,  which  is  to  me  the  most  wonderful  I  have  ever  met 
With." 

Charlotte  Bronte  (1816-1855)  was  the  eldest  of  three  remark- 
able sisters,  daughters  of  a  clergyman  of  Haworth  in  Yorkshire. 
Her  first  story,  The  Professor,  was  not  accepted  by  the  publishers 
to  whom  she  offered  it ;  but  her  next  work  met  with  a  very  differ- 
ent fortune.  In  1847fc7ane_Z^reJwas  published,  and  established  fhe 
reputation  of  the  author,  who  wrote  under  the  name  of  Currer 
Bell.  Shirley  followed  in  the  same  style  in  1849,  and  Villettc  in 
1853.  The  last  was  the  greatest  of  her  works.  In  1854  she  mar- 
ried her  father's  curate,  Mr.  Nicholls ;  but  after  a  few  months  of 
happiness  she  died.  Her  life  has  been  written  by  Mrs.  Gaskell, 
herself  a  novelist  of  great  merit,  and  is  one  of  the  saddest  and 
most  touching  of  narratives. 

The  charming  sketches  of  Mary  Russell  Mitford  (1789-1855;. 
a  lady  who  has  described  the  village  life  and  scenery  of  England 
with  the  grace  and  delicacy  of  Goldsmith  himself,  seem  destined  to 
hold  a  place  in  our  literature  long  after  the  once  popular  novels 
of  her  famous  contemporaries  shall  have  been  forgotten.  Our  Yil- 


MARRYAT,    THACKERAY.  333 

lage  is  one  of  the  most  delightful  books  in  the  language.  Miss 
Mittbrd  describes  with  the  truth  ami  fidelity  of  Crabbe  and  Cowper, 
but  without  the  moral  gloom  of  the  one,  or  the  morbid  sadness 
of  the  other. 

The  immense  colonial  possessions  of  Great  Britain,  and  the 
Englishman's  passion  for  knowing  about  foreign  nations,  have 
turned  the  attention  of  English  novelists  to  the  delineation  of  the 
manners  and  scenery  of  ancient  and  distant  countries.  They  have 
also  found  ready  applause  for  stories  of  sea-life.  England's  cher- 
ished pride  over  her  long  supremacy  on  the  sea  has  given  the 
masses  of  her  readers  admiration  for  the  sailor,  and  sympathy  with 
the  hardships  of  his  life.  Captain  Marryat  (1792-1848),  one  of 
the  most  easy,  lively,  and  truly  humorous  story-tellers,  stands  at 
the  head  of  the  marine  novelists.  High,  effervescent,  irrepressible 
animal  spirits  characterize  even-thing  he  has  written.  He  seems 
half-tipsy  with  the  gayety  of  his  heart,  and  never  scruples  to  intro- 
duce the  most  grotesque  extravagances  of  character,  language,  and 
event,  provided  they  are  likely  to  excite  a  laugh.  Nothing  can 
surpass  the  liveliness  and  drollery  of  his  Peter  Simple,  Jacob  Faith- 
ful, or  Mr.  Midshipman  Easy.  Marryat's  narratives  are  often  grossly 
improbable ;  but  we  read  on  with  delight,  never  thinking  of  the 
story,  solicitous  only  to  follow  the  droll  adventures  and  laugh  at 
the  still  droller  characters.  In  many  passages  he  has  shown  a  mas- 
tery over  the  pathetic  emotions.  Though  superficial  in  his  view 
of  character,  he  is  generally  faithful  to  reality,  and  shows  an  ex- 
tensive if  not  very  deep  knowledge  of  what  his  old  waterman 
calls  "  human  natur."  There  are  few  authors  more  amusing  tcaa 
Marryat. 

Among  modern  novelists  William  Makepeace  Thackeray 
(1811-1863)  was  one  of  the  greatest.  He  was  bom  in  Calcutta,  tne 
son  of  an  English  official.  In  his  very  curly  years  he  was  sent 
away  from  his  eastern  home  to  receive  his  education  in  England. 
After  a  careful  training  he  was  admitted  to  the  University  of  Cam- 
bridge. He  did  not  remain  there  long  ;  for  the  death  of  his  father 
had  left  him  wealth,  and  freedom  to  direct  his  own  course  of  study. 
His  desire  was  to  become  an  artist.  He  left  the  University  without 
his  degree,  and  spent  four  or  five  years  in  France,  Italy,  and  Ger- 
many. His  study  of  the  masterpieces  of  the  great  painters  made 
him  distrust  his  own  abilities.  But  his  life  abroad  gave  him  stores 


334  THACKERAY. 

of  knowledge  valuable  for  bis  later  literary  work.  On  returning 
to  Loodon  he  continued  his  art  studies  ;  but  the  loss  of  his  fortune 
compelled  him  to  throw  himself  with  all  his  powers  into  the  field 
of  literature.  He  was  first  known  by  his  articles  in  Prater's  Maga- 
zine, contributed  under  the  names  of  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh  and 
George  Fitzboodle,  Esq.  Tales,  criticism,  and  poetry  appeared  in 
great  profusion  ;  and  were  illustrated  by  the  author's  own  pencil. 
The  chief  of  his  contributions  to  the  magazine  was  the  tale  of  Barry 
Lyndon,  The  Adventures  of  an  Irish  Fortune-hunter.  This  was  full 
of  humor  and  incident,  but  the  reading  public  was  not  yet  expect- 
ing a  great  future  for  this  unknown  writer.  In  1841  Punch  was 
commenced,  to  which  Thackeray  contributed  the  Snob  Papers, 
Jeames's  Diary,  and  many  other  papers  in  prose  and  verse.  In  1846 
and  the  two  following  years  Vanity  Fair  appeared,  by  many  sup- 
posed to  be  the  best  of  his  works — certainly  the  most  original. 

The  novel  was  not  complete  before  its  author  took  his  place 
1846]    among  the  great  writers  of  English  fiction.     The  author 

of  satirical  sketches  and  mirthful  poems  had  shown  himself 
to  be  a  consummate  satirist,  and  a  great  novelist. 

Vanity  Fair,  the  first  of  Thackeray's  famous  works,  is  called  a 
"  Xovel  without  a  Hero."  It  has,  however,  two  heroines— Rebecca 
Sharp,  the  impersonation  of  intellect  without  heart,  and  Amelia 
Sedley,  who  has  heart  without  intellect ;  the  former  is  without 
doubt  the  ablest  creation  of  modern  fiction.  As  a  whole  the  book 
is  full  of  quiet  sarcasm  and  rebuke ;  but  a  careful  reading  will 
perceive  the  kindly  heart  that  is  beating  under  the  bitterest  sen- 
tence and  the  most  caustic  irony. 

Pendennis,  published  in  1849  and  1850,  was  the  immediate  suc- 
cessor of  Vanity  Fair.  Literary  life  presents  scope  for  description, 
and  is  well  used  in  the  history  of  Pen,  a  hero  of  no  very  great 
worth.  As  Vanity  Fair  gives  us  Thackeray's  knowledge  of  life  in 
the  present  day,  so  Esmond  exhibits  his  intimate  acquaintance 
with  the  society  of  the  reigns  of  the  later  Stuarts  and  earlier 
Georges.  Like  Vanity  Fair,  it  is  without  plot,  and  gives  in  an 
autobiographical  form  the  history  of  Colonel  Henry  Esmond.  The 
style  of  a  century  and  a  half  ago  is  reproduced  with  marvellous 
fidelity.  The  story  of  Esmond  is  probably  the  best  of  Thackeray's 
writings. 

The  Virginians  is  the  history  of  the  grandsons  of  Esmond.     It 


D  I  C  K  E  X  S  .  335 

consists  of  a  series  of  well-described  scenes  and  incidents  in  the 
reign  of  George  II.  The  most  popular  of  Thackeray's  novels  is 
The  Neuncomes.  "  The  leading  theme  or  moral  of  the  story  is  the 
misery  occasioned  by  forced  or  ill-assorted  marriages."  The  noble 
courtesy,  the  Christian  gentlemanliness  of  Colonel  Newcome  is  per- 
haps a  reflection  of  the  author  himself.  Ethel  Newcome  is  Thacke- 
ray's favorite  womanly  character.  The  minor  personages  are  most 
life-like,  while  over  the  whole  there  is  a  clear  exhibition  of  the  real 
kindliness  of  Thackeray's  heart. 

His  two  courses  of  lectures  On  the  English  Humorists  and  The 
Fourjfeorges,  are  models  of  style  and  criticism. 
AJ  Charles  Dickens  (1813-1870)  was  the  most  popular  novelist 
of  his  day.  The  two  men,  Dickens  and  Thackeray,  stood  side  by 
side,  each  industrious,  each  effective  in  his  work,  each  appreciating 
and  applauding  the  other.  Dickens's  father  intended  that  he 
should  follow  the  profession  of  the  law  ;  but  it  was  distasteful  to 
him,  and  he  abandoned  it  for  the  busy  life  of  a  reporter  to  one 
of  the  London  newspapers.  This  work  gave  him  opportunities 
for  observing  the  characters  and  habits  of  the  poorer  classes.  His 
mind  was  quick  to  notice  eccentricities  of  human  nature.  He 
could  not  refrain  from  the  delineation  of  what  he  saw  in  men  and 
women,  and  so  he  was  soon  furnishing  "  Sketches  of  Life  and  Char- 
acter "  to  the  columns  of  his  journal.  These  papers  were  after- 
wards published  as  Sketches  ~by  Boz.  The  volume  had  a  ready  sale. 
Its  author  was  called  upon  to  write  a  book  representing  the  adven- 
tures of  a  company  of  Cockney  sportsmen,  and  Mr.  Seymour,  a 
comic  artist  of  the  day,  was  to  furnish  it  with  illustrations.  The 
volume  was  published  iu  monthly  parts  ;  and  the  first  number  ap- 
peared in  1836,  bearing  the  title  of  The  Posthumous  Papers 
1836]  of  the  Pickwick  Club.  It  was  hailed  with  delight.  The 
author's  fame  began,  and  he  was  regarded  by  all  classes  of 
readers  as  a  writer  of  the  most  radiant  humor.  Everybody  was 
merry  over  Mr.  Pickwick  and  Sam  Weller,  and  everybody  was 
eager  to  read  this  entertaining  author.  Volume  after  volume  came 
from  his  pen.  There  seemed  to  be  no  limit  to  his  power  of  cari- 
cature, no  weariness  to  him  iu  observing  the  drolleries  of  life,  no 
blunting  to  his  sense  of  fun.  After  writing  Nicholas  Nicklelnj, 
Oliver  Twist,  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop,  and  Barnahy  Ttiulge,  he  made 
his  first  visit  to  America.  His  fame  here  was  as  great  as  in  Eng 


336  DICKENS,     BULWEB-LYTTON. 

land,  and  he  was  received  with  hearty  welcome.  The  visit  fur- 
nished him  with  material  for  two  new  works,  American  Notes  for 
General  Circulation,  and  Martin  Chuszletoit.  The  keen  satirist  had 
witnessed  some  of  our  national  follies,  and  he  was  most  severe  in 
his  exposure  of  them.  Americans  then  thought,  and  still  think, 
that  he  exaggerated  our  faults.  It  was  natural  for  him  to  do  that. 
All  of  his  creations  are  exaggerations.  The  dominant  faculty  of  his 
mind  is  his  observation  of  peculiarities,  and  in  painting  them  he 
distorts  and  misrepresents  the  unpeculiar  qualities  of  a  character. 
After  his  visit  to  America  he  spent  a  year  in  Italy,  and  then  return- 
ing to  London,  he  entered  upon  the  busiest  years  of  his  active  life. 
He  established  and  edited  The  Daily  News  ;  but  finding  the  work 
ungenial,  he  began  again  the  writing  of  fiction.  Dorribey  and  Son, 
David  Copperfield,  and  Bleak  House,  appeared,  to  delight  his  rap- 
turous readers.  In  1850  Dickens  took  charge  of  a  weekly  paper, 
called  Household  Words,  and  gained  for  it  a  large  circulation.  After- 
wards he  started  his  own  All  the  Tear  Round,  and  contributed  to  it, 
in  instalments,  his  later  novels.  Among  the  most  charming  of 
Dickens's  works  are  his  Christmas  Stories.  One  came  from  his  pen 
each  year  after  1848.  The  children  and  the  old  folk  will  probably 
read  A  Christmas  Carol,  The  Cricket  on  the  Hearth,  and  The  Chimes 
long  after  his  more  elaborate  stories  have  been  forgotten.  Dickens's 
vigorous  constitution  broke  down  from  desperate  overwork,  and  he 
died  suddenly  in  1870. 

"No  one  thinks  first  of  Mr.  Dickens  as  a  writer.  He  is  at  once, 
through  his  books,  a  friend.  He  belongs  among  the  intimates  of 
every  pleasant-tempered  and  large-hearted  person.  He  is  not  so 
much  the  guest  as  the  inmate  of  our  homes.  He  keeps  holidays 
with  us,  he  helps  us  to  celebrate  Christmas  with  heartier  cheer,  he 
shares  at  every  New  Year  in  our  good  wishes  ;  for,  indeed,  it  is  not 
in  his  purely  literary  character  that  he  has  done  most  for  us,  it  is  as 
a  man  of  the  largest  humanity,  who  has  simply  used  literature  as  the 
means  by  which  to  bring  himself  into  relation  with  his  fellow-men, 
and  to  inspire  them  with  something  of  his  own  sweetness,  kindness, 
charity,  and  good-will."  * 

Sir  Edward  George  Bulwer-Lytton  (1805-1873)  is  named 
with  Thackeray  and  Dickens  as  the  third  great  writer  of  the  mod- 
ern novel.  He  was  the  son  of  General  Bulwer.  In  1844,  upon 

*  North  American  Betiew,  April,  18i>8. 


BULWER-LYTTON.  337 

inheriting  his  mother's  estates  he  was  granted  the  privilege  of 
adding  her  i'amily  name,  Lytton,  to  his  surname.  In  boyhood  he 
made  his  first  contribution  to  the  shelves  of  the  English  libra- 
ries, and  throughout  his  youth  and  manhood  he  was  an  unceasing 
writer.  A  few  poems,  a  few  dramas,  occasional  political  papers, 
and  a  multitude  of  novels  have  come  from  his  pen.  His  principal 
novels  are  Pelham,  Eugene  Aram ,/ The  LastJDays  of  Pompeiij  Rienzi, 
and  The  Cctxtons.  "  The  special  ability  of  Bulwer  appears  to  lie  in 
the  delineation  of  that  passion  with  which  the  novel  is  so  deeply 
concerned,  the  passion  of  love.  All  true  and  manly  passions,  let  it 
be  said,  are  honored  and  illustrated  in  his  pages.  But  he  stands 
alone  among  novelists  of  his  sex  in  the  portraiture  of  love.  The 
heroism,  the  perfect  trust,  the  strength  in  death,  are  painted  by 
him  with  a  sympathetic  truth  for  which  we  know  not  where  to 
seek  a  parallel."  * 

*  Bayas. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

GENERAL  COMMENTS  ON  THE  LITERATURE  OF  THE  NINETEENTH 
CENTURY. 

rpHE  early  years  of  the  present  century  were  years  of  conflict  and 
L  excitement.  The  mind  was  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch,  now 
of  fear,  and  now  of  triumph.  England  fought  for  the  liberties  of 
Europe ;  at  times  the  struggle  seemed  to  be  for  her  own  existence. 
The  literature  of  a  people  always  reflects  something  of  the  prev- 
alent tone  of  its  age,  and  we  may  therefore  expect  to  find  the  chief 
compositions  of  the  first  thirty  years  of  this  century  marked  by 
intense  feeling,  passion,  and  emotion.  There  is  no  other  age  in 
English  history  which  exhibits  such  an  array  of  masters  of  song. 
At  the  close  of  the  reign  of  George  III.,  in  1820,  there  were  living 
in  England  ten  poets  whose  writings  commanded  the  attention  of  all 
English  readers.  Then  Crabbe,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Southey, 
Scott.  Campbell,  Moore,  Byron,  Shelley,  and  Keats  were  stars  in 
the  literary  firmament.  They  had  been  impelled  to  shine  forth  the 
passion  of  their  generation.  The  passionate  states  of  the  mind  of 
society  demand  expression  in  song.  "The  Victorian  age  "follow- 
ing this  group  of  poets  is  distinguished  by  an  unusual  number  of 
dignified  writers  of  prose.  The  calmer  inquiries  into  politics,  phi- 
losophy, art,  and  physical  science,  have  been  prosecuted  in  the  more 
tranquil  period. 

Poetry  is  the  earlier  expression  of  every  literature.  The  first 
writers  whose  works  are  preserved  are  the  writers  of  verse.  The 
rhythm  of  their  song,  the  pictures  of  their  excited  fancy,  the  stories 
they  tell,  catch  and  enchain  the  popular  attention.  Until  our  cen- 
tury, the  patronage  of  the  English  Court,  the  heartiest  sympathies 
of  the  English  scholar,  and  the  applause  of  the  people  have  been 
given  to  the  writer  of  the  song.  Prose  is  now  in  the  ascendant 
over  poetry.  An  illustration  of  the  fact  is  at  hand.  Two  elaborate 
works  were  recently  published  in  England.  Both  were  written  to 
face  the  test  of  scholarly  criticism,  and  to  gain  the  interest  of  the 


HISTOKICAL     WRITINGS.  339 

common  readers.  One  is  in  prose ;  it  gives  strange  opinions  on 
puzzling  historical  questions,  and  packs  twelve  duodecimo  volumes. 
The  other  has  the  fascination  of  rhythmic  verse,  of  scholarship,  of 
mythical  story,  and  has  conceded  to  it  a  high  place  among  the 
masterly  poems  of  the  century.  But  Morris's  Earthly  Paradise  has 
a  limited  sale,  and  has  comparatively  few  readers ;  while  every 
public  library,  and  thousands  of  private  libraries,  have  well- 
thumbed  copies  of  Froude's  History  of  England.  It  is  not  that  the 
culture  of  the  poet  has  declined ;  the  tact  of  the  writer  of  prose  and 
the  thoughtfulness  of  the  masses  of  readers  have  improved.  Spen- 
ser, Milton  and  Byron  are  not  read  as  they  once  were.  What  has 
brought  about  the  change  ?  There  is  the  same  lofty  theme,  there 
is  the  same  resounding  line,  there  is  the  same  poetic  inspiration. 
But  the  taste  and  thought  of  the  readers  have  changed.  They  are 
in  sympathy  with  what  is  called  the  practical  spirit  of  the  age. 
They  lead  to  the  instructive  novel,  to  books  of  travel,  to  biography, 
to  history.  They  compel  readers  to  seek  for  information,  as  well 
as  for  entertainment  and  elegant  culture  in  literature. 

The  writers  of  this  century,  then,  are  supplying  what  is  de- 
manded by  an  increasing  number  of  thoughtful ,  readers,  and  in 
so  doing,  are  marking  out  what  seems  to  be  a  peculiar  era.  The 
chief  external  influence  has  come  from  Germany.  Coleridge  intro- 
duced it  largely,  and  he  has  been  followed  in  the  work  by  Thomas 
Carlyle.  In  former  pages  we  have  spoken  of  the  Elizabethan  age 
as  under  Italian  influence,  of  the  Augustan  age  as  under  French 
influence,  and  our  age,  doubtless,  will  be  regarded  by  the  future 
historian  as  the  age  of  German  influence. 

During  this  century  greater  progress  has  been  made  in  History 
than  in  any  other  department  of  letters.  A  new  impulse  was  given 
to  the  study  by  the  publication  of  the  first  volume  of  Niebuhr's 
Roman  History,  in  Germany,  in  1811.  This  remarkable  work 
taught  scholars  not  only  to  estimate  more  accurately  the  value  of 
the  original  authorities,  but  also  to  enter  more  fully  into  the  spirit 
of  antiquity,  and  to  think  and  feel  as  the  Romans  felt  and  thought. 
In  the  treatment  of  Modern  History  the  advance  has  been  equally 
striking.  An  historical  sense  has  grown  up.  A  writer  on  any  period 
of  modern  history  is  now  expected  to  produce  in  support  of  his 
facts  the  testimony  of  credible  contemporary  witnesses ;  while  the 
public  records  of  most  of  the  great  European  nations,  now  rendered 


340  MACAULAY. 

accessible  to  students,  have  imposed  upon  historians  a  labor,  and 
opened  sources  of  information,  quite  unknown  to  the  historical 
writers  of  the  preceding  century. 

Dr.  Thomas  Arnold  (1795-1842),  Head-Master  of  Rugby  School, 

wrote   a   History   of  Rome  in   three   volumes,  which   was 

1842]    broken  off,  by  his  death,  at  the  end  of  the  Second  Punic 

War.    This  work  is  a  popular  exhibition  of  Niebuhr's  views, 

and  is  written  in  clear  and  masculine  English.    Dr.  Arnold  also 

published  Introductory  Lectures  on  Modern  History.     He  was  the 

author  of  several  theological  works.     But  his  fame  is  that  of  a 

great  teacher,  rather  than  of  a  successful  author. 

The  most  eminent  English  writers  upon  Ancient  History  are 
Bishop  Connop  Thirlwall  and  George  Grote,  both  of  whom  have 
produced  Histories  of  Greece  far  superior  to  any  existing  in  other 
European  languages.  Thirlwall's  work  is  dry  and  unattractive  to 
the  general  reader;  but  it  is  scientific,  thorough,  and  liberal  in  its 
spirit.  Grote's  history  was  written  under  peculiar  circumstances. 
The  author  was  a  busy  banker,  and  during  part  of  his  career  he 
was  an  active  radical  politician.  His  sentiments  were  democratic, 
and  his  sympathies,  throughout  his  work,  are  heartily  enlisted  on 
the  side  of  the  Athenian  democracy.  He  had  not  received  a  uni- 
versity education.  While  a  clerk  in  a  banking-house,  he  set  him- 
self at  work  to  master  the  Greek  language  and  literature,  to  make 
himself  a  scholar  in  Greek  Geography,  Antiquities,  and  History. 
His  toilsome  work  was  so  well  done  that  all  readers  came  to  look 
upon  him  as  the  most  competent  of  Englishmen  to  deal  with  Gre- 
cian history  and  letters. 

The  most  versatile  writer  of  the  century  is  Thomas  Babington 
Macaulay  (1800-1859).  In  descriptive  poetry  (325),  in  criticism, 
in  essay-writing,  in  political  papers,  in  oratory,  and  especially  in 
historical  narration,  he  has  shown  himself  to  be  a  master.  He  was 
born  in  England,  but  his  lineage  was  Scotch.  His  father,  Zachary 
Macaulay,  a  merchant,  was  an  ardent  philanthropist  and  one  of  the 
earliest  opponents  of  the  slave  trade.  At  Cambridge,  Macaulay 
won  high  honors.  Leaving  the  university  he  began  the  study  of  the 
law,  but,  while  at  his  books,  he  suddenly  achieved  a  literary  reputa- 
tion by  an  article  on  Milton  (341)  in  the  Edinburgh  Review. 
J.825]  This  was  the  first  of  a  long  aeries  of  brilliant  literary  and 
historical  essays  contributed  to  the  same  periodical.  Hw 


HALL  Ail.  341 

career  as  a  statesman  was  brilliant,  but  it  is  as  a  man  of  letters  that 
his  name  will  be  longest  remembered. 

His  Lays  of  Ancient  Rome  arc  the  best  known  of  his  poems ;  but 
the  lines  written  upon  his  defeat  at  Edinburgh  in  1847  are  the 
finest.  His  Essays  and  his  History  will  always  give  him  a  high 
place  among  English  classics.  His  style  has  been  well  described 
by  Dean  Milman.  "  Its  characteristics  were  vigor  and  animation, 
copiousness,  clearness;  above  all,  sound  English,  now  a  rare  ex- 
cellence. The  vigor  and  life  were  unabating ;  perhaps  in  that  con- 
scious strength  which  cost  no  exertion,  he  did  not  always  gauge 
and  measure  the  force  of  his  own  words.  .  .  .  His  copious- 
ness had  nothing  tumid,  diffuse,  Asiatic;  no  ornament  for  the 
sake  of  ornament.  As  to  its  clearness,  one  may  read  a  sentence 
of  Macaulay  twice  to  judge  of  its  full  force,  never  to  comprehend  its 
meaning.  His  English  was  pure,  both  in  idiom  and  in  words,  pure 
to  fastidiousness ;  .  .  .  .  every  word  must  be  genuine  English, 
nothing  that  approached  real  vulgarity,  nothing  that  had  not  the 
stamp  of  popular  use,  or  the  authority  of  sound  English  writers, 
nothing  unfamiliar  to  the  common  ear." 

Macaulay's  Essays  (341,  342)  are  philosophical  and  historical 
disquisitions,  embracing  a  vast  range  of  subjects;  but  the  larger 
number,  and  the  most  important,  relate  to  English  History.  These 
Essays,  however,  were  only  preparatory  to  his  History  of  England. 
In  the  opening  chapter  of  that  grand  work,  lie  says :  "  I  purpose 
to  write  t\\e(History  of  Englandffrom  the  accession  of  King  James 
the  Second  down  to  &  timewbich  is  in  the  memory  of  men  still 
living."  His  purpose  was  not  carried  out,  for  the  narrative  is 
brought  down  only  to  the  death  of  William  the  Third,  and  the  lat- 
ter portion  of  what  is  written  is  fragmentary.  In  a  review  of  Sir 
James  Mackintosh's  History  of  the  Recohition,  Macaulay  observed  that 
"a  History  of  England,  written  throughout  in  this  manner,  would 
be  the  most  fascinating  book  in  the  language.  It  would  be  more 
in  request  at  the  circulating  libraries  than  the  last  novel."  The 
unexampled  popularity  of  his  own  History  verified  the  prediction. 

Another  great  English  writer  on  modern  history  in  the  present 
century,  superior  in  judgment  to  Macaulay,  though  inferior  in 
graces  of  style,  is  Henry  Hallam  (1778-1859)  (337).  He  was  one 
of  the  early  contributors  to  the  Edinburgh  Revieic.  His  criticism  in 
that  Journal,  in  1808,  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  edition  of  Dryden's 


342  M  I  L  M  A  X  . 

works  was  marked  by  that  power  of  discrimination  and  impartial 
judgment  which  characteiized  all  his  subsequent  writings. 

The  result  of  his  long-continued  studies  first  appeared  in  his 
View  of  tlie  State  of  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages,  published 
in  1818,  exhibiting,  in  a  series  of  historical  dissertations,  a  com- 
prehensive survey  of  the  chief  circumstances  that  can  interest  a 
philosophical  inquirer  during  the  period  usually  denominated  the 
Middle  Ages.  Mr.  Hallam's  next  work  was  The  Constitutional  His- 
tory of  England  from  the  Accession  of  Henry  VII.  to  the  Death  of 
Gewge  II.,  published  in  1 827 ;  and  his  third  great  production  was 
An  Introduction  to  the  Literature  of  Europe,  in  the  Fifteenth,  Six- 
teenth, and  Seventeenth  Centuries,  which  appeared  in  1837-39.  His 
latter  years  were  saddened  by  the  loss  of  his  two  sons,  the  eldest  of 
whom  was  the  subject  of  Tennyson's  In  Memoriam. 

An  estimate  of  Hallam's  literary  merits  has  been  given  by  Macau- 
lay,  his  illustrious  contemporary,  in  a  review  of  the  Constitutional 
History : — "  Mr.  Hallam  is,  on  the  whole,  far  better  qualified  than 
any  other  writer  of  our  time  for  the  office  which  he  has  undertaken. 
He  has  great  industry  and  great  acuteness.  His  knowledge  is  ex- 
tensive, varied,  and  profound.  His  mind  is  equally  distinguished 
by  the  amplitude  of  its  grasp,  and  by  the  delicacy  of  its  tact.  .  .  . 
His  work  is  eminently  judicial.  The  whole  spirit  is  that  of  the 
bench,  not  that  of  the  bar.  He  sums  up  with  a  calm,  steady  im- 
partiality, turning  neither  to  the  right  nor  to  the  left,  glossing  over 
nothing,  exaggerating  nothing,  while  the  advocates  on  both  sides 
are  alternately  biting  their  lips  to  hear  their  conflicting  misstate- 
ments  and  sophisms  exposed.  On  a  general  survey,  we  do  not 
scruple  to  pronounce  the  Constitutional  History  the  most  impartial 
book  that  we  have  ever  read."  ^^ '  -^ 

/*-~/Tfnebft-repeated  reproach  once  directed  against  the  English 
L/^  people, that  Gibbon  was  their  only  ecclesiastical  historian. has  been 
removed  by  Henry  Hart  Milman  (1791-1868),  Dean  of  St.  Paul's, 
one  of  the  best-balanced  and  most  highly-cultivated  intellects  that 
England  has  produced.  For  many  years  he  held  the  professor- 
ship of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  and  at  different  times  he  published 
The  Martyr  of  Antioch,  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem,  and  other  poems. 
Fazio,  and  the  Fatt  of  Jerusalem,  both  dramas,  are  perhaps  the  most 
meritorious.  But  it  is  upon  his  historical  productions  that  his 
fame  rests.  These  have  already  taken  their  place  among  the  Eng- 


J  0  II  X     STUART     MILL.  343 

lish  classics.  They  consist  of  three  great  works,  the  History  of  the 
Jews,  the  History  of  Christianity,  and  the  History  of  Latin  Christi- 
anity. Certain  indispensable  qualities  of  the  true  historian  Mil- 
man  possessed  in  fuller  perfection  than  any  English  writer  that 
ever  lived, — the  keenest  critical  sagacity,  a  rare  faculty  of  sifting 
and  determining  the  exact  value  of  evidence,  a  mind  singularly  free 
from  prejudice,  and  almost  unerring  in  its  power  of  penetrating  to 
the  truth.  He  moves  with  the  most  perfect  ease  beneath  the  im- 
mense weight  of  his  acquisitions,  never  allowing  them  to  interfere 
with  his  independence  of  thought.  He  grappled  with  a  subject 
extending  over  a  vast  period  of  time,  embracing  the  widest  area  of 
human  activity,  and  dealing  with  the  subtilest  and  most  intricate 
of  phenomena.  It  presents  difficulties  from  which  any  but  the 
boldest  would  shrink. 

The  theological  and  religious  literature  of  this-- age  is  marked  by 
a  less  metaphysical  character  than  that  of  former  times.  Works  of 
a  controversial  kind  have  been  fewer,  while  greater  attention  has 
been  paid  to  exegetical  studies.  Many  of  the  best-knowrn  religious 
writers  have  won  their  chief  literary  honors  in  the  other  fields  of 
criticism,  history,  or  philosophy,  and  receive  notice  there.  The 
three  most  distinguished  theological  writers  are  perhaps  Hall,  Fos- 
ter, and  Chalmers. 

In  Philosophy  many  contributions  have  been  made  to  our  lite- 
rature during  the  period  under  consideration.  Names  of  men 
appear  whose  analyses  and  investigations,  especially  in  the  inductive 
sciences,  have  had  nothing  to  compare  with  them  since  the  time  of 
Bacon.  The  influence  of  Germany  has  been  felt  in  this  depart- 
ment. The  study  of  Logic  in  England  has  been  revived,  and  is  now 
freed  from  the  contempt  in  which  it  was  long  held.  Sir  William 
Hamilton  (339)  (1788-1856)  and  John  Stuart  Mill  (1806-1873) 
are  most  eminent  among  the  philosophers.  Hamilton  was  educated 
at  Oxford,  and  was  called  to  the  bar  in  1813.  In  1821  he  became 
Professor  of  Universal  History  at  Edinburgh,  and  in  1836  he  ob- 
tained the  Chair  of  Logic  and  Metaphysics.  His  Essays  from  the 
Edinburgh  Review  and  his  Edition  of  I>r.  Reid's  Works  were  pub- 
lished during  his  lifetime.  His  Lectures  were  published  after  his 
death.  He  was  the  greatest  philosopher  of  his  age.  His  style  is  a 
model  of  philosophical  writing. 


344  W  H  A  T  E  L  Y  . 

Mr.  Mill  has  been  a  prolific  writer  upon  questions  of  criticism, 
philosophy,  and  political  economy.  He  has  also  been  interested  in 
politics,  and  has  ranked  with  the  radical  party  in  England.  His 
chief  works  are  A  System  of  Logic,  Ratiocinative  and  Inductive ; 
Principles  of  Political  Economy ;  An  Essay  on  Liberty  ;  and  An  Essay 
on  the  Subjection  of  Women. 

Richard  Whately  (1787-1863)  was  educated  at  Oxford,  and 
having  entered  the  service  of  the  English  Church  he  received 
several  responsible  positions,  the  highest  being  the  Archbishopric 
of  Dublin.  His  first  work,  published  anonymously,  was  the  once 
famous  argument  entitled  Historic  Doubts  Relative  to  Napoleon  Bona- 
parte. It  was  an  illustration  of  the  fact  that  the  principles  of 
reasoning  used  by  infidels  against  the  teachings  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment are  just  as  effective  in  seeming  to  disprove  the  best  authenti- 
cated facts  of  history.  While  Professor  of  Political  Economy  at 
Oxford,  he  published  his  well-known  works  on  Logic  and  Rhetoric. 
To  enumerate  all  the  publications  of  this  diligent  man  would  not 
be  possible  in  this  sketch.  "  He  was  always  either  writing  himself, 
or  helping  some  one  else  to  write."  His  best  essays  are  New  Tes- 
tament Difficulties,  The  Sabbath,  and  Romanism.  His  lectures  on 
Political  Economy  (346)  appeared  in  1831 ;  and  later,  he  published 
other  works  on  social  and  economical  questions.  His  work  in  an- 
notating an  edition  of  Bacon's  essays  has  received  much  deserved 
praise.  Whately  had  a  mind  of  great  logical  power,  with  little  im- 
agination and  fancy.  His  views  of  questions  are  often  shallow,  but 
always  practical.  His  style  is  luminous,  easy,  and  well  ndorned 
with  every-day  illustrations. 

The  inductive  method  of  Bacon  has  never  been  so  carefully  ap- 
plied and  diligently  followed  as  in  the  scientific  researches  of  the 
nineteenth  century;  and  the  advance  of  physical  science  has  there- 
fore been  more  rapid  than  that  of  any  other  branch  of  human 
knowledge.  The  greatest  writers  on  physical  science  are  still  alive, 
and  are  therefore  unmentioned  in  this  volume.  Many  of  them  will 
find  prominent  places  in  English  literature  on  account  of  the  style 
of  their  writings. 

The  increased  facilities  of  printing  and  a  larger  class  of  readers 
have  combined  to  render  the  "periodicals"  the  great  feature  of  the 


LOCKE  ART.  345 

age.  These  range  from  the  valuable  quarterlies,  through  the 
various  forms  of  magazine  and  review,  down  to  the  daily  paper,  the 
peculiar  feature  of  the  literature  of  the  times.  Some  of  the  most 
valuable  essays  have  been  contributed  to  these  magazines.  Every 
shade  of  politics,  every  school  of  philosophy,  every  sect  of  religion, 
has  its  paper  or  its  magazine.  To  give  a  sketch  of  these  periodi- 
icals  is  of  course  impossible,  but  the  Edinburgh  and  Quarterly  Reviews 
imparted  such  an  impulse  to  literature  as  to  demand  a  few  words. 

The  Edinburgh  Review  was  established  in  1802  by  a  small  party 
of  young  men, — Brougham,  Jeffrey,  Sydney  Smith,  Homer, — ob- 
scure at  that  time,  but  ambitious  and  enterprising,  who 
1802]  were  all  destined  to  attain  distinction.  It  founded  its  claim 
to  success  upon  the  boldness  and  vivacity  of  its  tone,  its 
total  rejection  of  all  precedent  and  authority,  and  the  audacity  of 
its  discussions.  It  was  conducted  from  1803  to  1829  by  Francis 
Jeffrey  (333)  (1773-1850),  a  Scotch  advocate,  who  was  subse- 
quently raised  to  the  bench.  He  wrote  a  large  number  of  critical 
articles,  marked  by  vigor  and  elegance  of  style,  and  usually  by 
keen  discrimination.  Another  of  the  most  important  of  the  early 
contributors  to  the  Review,  who  indeed  edited  the  first  number,  was 
Sydney  Smith  (331,  332)  (1771-1845),  an  English  clergyman, 
and  in  the  later  period  of  his  life  Canon  of  St.  Paul's.  He  wrote 
chiefly  upon  political  and  practical  questions  with  a  richness  of 
comic  humor  and  dry  sarcasm,  which  is  not  only  exquisitely  amus- 
ing, but  is  full  of  truth  as  well  as  pleasantry. 

The  Edinburgh  was  reckless  of  fear  or  favor,  and  with  a  dashing 
and  attractive  style  it  fiercely  advocated  liberal  opinions.  To 
counteract  its  influence  a  new  periodical,  called  The  Quarterly  Re- 
view, was  started  in  1809.  It  was  warmly  welcomed  by  the  friends 
of  the  government,  and  immediately  obtained  a  literary  reputation 
at  least  equal  to  its  rival.  The  editorship  was  intrusted  to  William 
Gifford  (1757-1826),  the  translator  of  Juvenal,  and  the  author  of 
Baviad  and  Mcetiad,  two  of  the  most  bitter,  powerful,  and  resistless 
of  modern  literary  satires.  Gifford  was  a  self-taught  man,  who 
had  raised  himself,  by  dint  of  almost  superhuman  exertions  and 
admirable  integrity,  to  a  high  place  among  the  literary  men  of  his 
age. 

He  was  succeeded  in  the  editorship  of  the  Quarterly,  after  a 
short  interregnum,  by  John  Gibson  Lockhart  (319)  (1794-1854),  a 


346  JOHX    YTILSOX. 


man  of  talent,  the  author  of  several  novels,  and  one  of  the  earliest 
and  ablest  contributors  to  Blackwood's  Magazine.  Many  of  the  best 
articles  in  the  Quarterly  were  written  by  himself.  In  1820  he  mar- 
ried the  eldest  daughter  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  in  1837-39  he 
published  the  charming  Life  of  his  father-in-law.  In  biography 
he  was  unrivalled.  His  Life  of  Napoleon,  which  appeared  without 
the  author's  name,  is  far  superior  to  many  more  ambitious  perfor- 
mances. 

Blackwootfs  Magazine  first  appeared  in  1817,  and  was  distin- 
guished by  the  ability  of  its  purely  literary  articles,  as  well  as  by 
the  violence  of  its  political  sentiments.  Among  the  many  able  men 
who  wrote  for  it,  one  of  the  most  eminent  was  John  Wilson  (3  1  §) 
(1785-1854),  the  son  of  a  wealthy  merchant.  After  studying  at 
Oxford,  he  took  up  his  abode  on  the  banks  of  the  Windermere, 
attracted  thither  by  the  society  of  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and  Cole- 
ridge. Wilson  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  Wordsworth,  whose  style 
he  adopted,  to  some  extent,  in  his  own  poems,  the  Isle  of  Palms 
and  The  City  after  the  Plague.  The  year  before  the  publication  of 
the  latter  poem,  Wilson  had  been  compelled,  by  the  loss  of  his 
fortune,  to  remove  to  Edinburgh,  and  to  adopt  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession. Though  Mr.  Blackwood  was  the  editor  of  his  own  mag- 
nzine,  Wilson  was  the  presiding  spirit,  and  under  the  name  of 
Christopher  North  and  other  pseudonyms  he  poured  forth  article 
after  article  with  exuberant  fertility.  His  Nodes  Ambrosiana,  in 
which  politics,  literary  criticism,  and  fun  were  intermingled,  gained 
great  popularity.  His  pathetic  tales,  the  Lights  and  Shadows  of 
Scottish  Life,  and  a  novel  The  Trials  of  Margaret  Lindsay,  show  the 
gentle,  genial  spirit  of  this  most  eloquent  author.  In  1820,  as  a 
competitor  of  Sir  William  Hamilton,  he  was  elected  professor  of 
r.Ioral  Philosophy  at  Edinburgh. 

William  Hazlitt  (338)  (1778-1830),  son  of  a  Unitarian  minis- 
ter, was  educated  as  an  artist,  but  lived  by  literature.  He  was  one 
of  the  best  critics  in  the  earlier  part  of  this  century.  His  para- 
doxes are  a  little  startling,  and  sometimes  lead  him  astray  ;  but 
there  is  a  delicacy  of  taste,  a  richness  of  imagination,  and  a  percep- 
tive power,  that  make  him  a  worthy  second  to  De  Quincey.  II  is 
style  is  vivid  and  picturesque,  and  his  evolutions  of  character  are 
clear.  His  chief  works  are  Principles  of  Human  Action,  Characters  of 
Shakespeare  s  Plays,  Table  Talk,  Lectures  en  various  authors,  Essayt 


LAMB.  347 

on  English  Novelists  in  the  Edinburgh,  and  a  Life  of  Napoleon,  in 
four  volumes. 

It  would  be  impossible  in  our  limits  to  give  an  account  of  the 
many  other  writers  who  distinguished  themselves  by  their  contribu- 
tions to  the  Reviews  and  Magazines ;  but  in  addition  to  those 
already  mentioned  two  essayists  stand  forth  pre-eminent — Charles 
Lamb  and  Thomas  De  Quincey. 

Charles  Lamb  (3554,  335)  (1775-1834),  a  poor  man's  son,  was 
educated  at  Christ's  Hospital.  He  was  a  Londoner:  London  life 
supplied  him  with  his  richest  materials,  and  his  mind  was  imbued 
with  the  older  writers.  He  was  an  old  writer,  who  lived  a  century 
or  two  after  his  real  time.  During  the  early  and  greater  part  of  his 
life,  Lamb,  poor  and  unfriended,  was  drudging  as  a  clerk  in  the 
India  House ;  and  it  was  not  until  late  in  life  that  he  was  unchained 
from  the  desk.  There  was  a  dark  shadow  along  his  path,  for  his 
beloved  sister  Mary  was  subject  to  fits  of  insanity.  In  one  of  these 
fits  she  had  killed  her  mother.  That  sad  event,  and  the  sad  care 
which  Lamb  gave  to  his  sister,  imparted  a  tender  melancholy  to  his 
writings,  even  where  they  seem  to  abound  in  good  humor.  In 
his  earliest  compositions,  such  as  the  drama  of  John  Woodtil,  and 
subsequently  in  the  Essays  of  Elia,  although  the  world  at  first  per- 
ceived a  mere  imitation  of  the  quaintness  of  expression  of  the  old 
writers,  there  was  in  reality  a  revival  of  their  very  spirit.  The 
Essays  of  Elia,  contributed  by  him  at  different  times  to  The  London 
Magazine,  are  surpassingly  fine  for  humor,  taste,  penetration,  and 
vivacity.  Where  shall  we  find  such  intense  delicacy  of  feeling,  such 
unimaginable  happiness  of  expression,  such  a  searching  into  the 
very  body  of  truth,  as  in  these  unpretending  compositions  ?  The 
style  has  a  peculiar  and  most  subtle  charm  ;  not  the  result  of  labor, 
for  it  is  found  in.  as  great  perfection  in  his  familiar  letters — a  cer- 
tain quaintness  and  antiquity,  not  affected  in  Lamb,  but  the  natural 
garb  of  his  thoughts.  As  in  all  the  true  humorists,  his  pleasantry 
was  inseparably  allied  with  the  finest  pathos ;  the  merry  quip  on 
the  tongue  was  but  the  commentary  on  the  tear  which  trembled  in 
the  eye.  The  inspiration  that  other  poets  find  in  the  mountains,  in 
the  forest,  in  the  sea,  Lamb  could  draw  from  the  crowd  of  Fleet- 
street,  from  the  remembrances  of  an  old  actor,  from  the  benchers  of 
the  Temple. 

Lamb  was  the  schoolfellow,  the  devoted  adiiiirer  and  friend  of 


348  DE     QUINCEY. 

Coleridge.  Coleridge  says  of  him :  "  Believe  me,  no  one  is  compe- 
tent to  judge  of  poor  dear  Charles  who  has  not  known  him  long 
and  well,  as  I  have  done.  His  heart  is  as  whole  as  his  head.  The 
wild  words  which  sometimes  come  from  him  on  religious  subjects 
might  startle  you  from  the  mouth  of  any  other  man  ;  but  in  him 

they  are  mere  flashes  of  firework Catch  him  when 

alone,  and  the  great  odds  are  you  will  find  him  with  the  Bible  or 
an  old  divine  before  him,  or  may  be,  and  that  is  the  next  door  in 
excellence,  an  old  English  poet ;  in  such  is  his  pleasure." 

There  never  was  a  man  more  beloved  by  all  his  contemporaries, 
by  men  of  every  opinion,  of  every  shade  of  literary,  political  and  re- 
ligious sentiment.  His  Specimens  of  the  Old  English  Dramatists  first 
showed  to  modern  readers  what  treasures  of  the  richest  poetry  lay 
concealed  in  the  unpublished  and  unknown  writers  of  the  Eliza- 
bethan age.  Indeed,  Lamb's  mind,  in  its  sensitiveness,  in  its  mix- 
ture of  wit  and  pathos,  was  eminently  Shakespearean;  and  his 
intense  and  reverent  study  of  the  works  of  Shakespeare  doubtless 
gave  this  tendency.  In  his  poems,  as,  for  instance,  the  Farewell  to 
Tobacco,  the  Old  Familiar  Faces,  and  his  few  but  beautiful  sonnets, 
we  find  the  very  essence  and  spirit  of  this  quaint  tenderness  of 
fancy,  the  simplicity  of  the  child  mingled  with  the  learning  of  the 
scholar. 

Thomas  de  Quincey  (1785-1859)  was  one  of  the  greatest  mas- 
ters of  English  prose.  He  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy  Manchester 
merchant.  After  leaving  Oxford  he  settled  at  Grasmere,  and  be- 
came intimate  with  Wordsworth,  Southey,  and  Coleridge.  There 
he  became  a  slave  to  the  habit  of  opium-eating.  After  many  years 
of  indulgence,  and  by  a  most  desperate  struggle,  he  broke  the  chain 
that  had  bound  him.  The  last  thirty-eight  years  of  his  life  he  was 
a  resident  of  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh. 

The  best  known  of  his  writings,  the  Confessions  of  an  Opium- 
eater  (329,  33O),  made  a  great  sensation  upon  its  publication  in 
1821.  The  sketches  of  his  experience  with  the  drug  are  fearfully 
vivid  and  picturesque,  while  in  places  the  ridicule  of  himself  is 
keen  and  amusing.  His  language  sometimes  soars  to  astonishing 
heights  of  eloquence.  Some  of  his  essays  are  almost  exclusively 
humorous,  among  which  Murder  considered  as  one  of  the  Fine  Arts 
is  the  best  known.  An  able  critic,  in  the  London  Quarterly  Revieir, 
No.  219,  thus  sums  up  his  literary  merits: — "A  great  master  of 


WALTER   SCOTT. 

BTRON,  MOORE,  SHELLEY,  KEATS,  CAMPBELL,  HUNT,  and 
LANDOR  ;  MRS.  BROWNING. 


'THE  LAKE  SCHOOL.' 


f  William  Wordsworth, 
j  S.  T.  Coleridge, 
[  Robert  Southey. 


THE  MODE11N  NOVELISTS. 


Horace  Walpole, 
Ann  Radcliffe, 
Matthew  Gregory  Lewta, 
Frances  Burney, 
William  Godwin, 
Maria  Edgeworth, 
Jane  Austen, 
Charlotte  Bronte, 
Mary  Russell  Mitford, 
Frederick  Marryat, 
William  Makepeace  Thackeray, 
Charles  Dickens, 
I  Sir  Edward  George  Bulwei  Lytkra, 


THE  HISTORIANS. 


Thomas  Arnold, 
Connop  Thirlwall, 
George  Grote, 
Thomas  B.  Macaulay, 
Henry  Hallam, 
Henry  Hart  Milman, 


THE  PHILOSOPHEES. 


William  Hamilton, 
John  Stuart  Mill. 


THE  ESSAYISTS. 


Francis  Jeffrey, 
Sydney  Smith, 
John  Gibson  Lockhart. 
John  Wilson, 
William  Hazlitt, 
Charles  Lamb, 
Thomas  DeQuincey. 


B  E  N  T  H  A  M  .  349 

English  composition ;  a  critic  of  uncommon  delicacy ;  an  honest 
and  unflinching  investigator  of  received  opinions ;  a  philosophic 
inquirer,  second  only  to  his  first  and  sole  hero  (Coleridge),  De 
Quincey  has  left  no  successor  to  his  rank.  The  exquisite  finish  of 
his  style,  with  the  scholastic  rigor  of  his  logic,  form  a  combination 
which  centuries  may  never  reproduce,  but  which  every  generation 
should  study  as  one  of  the  marvels  of  English  literature." 

The  boldness  and  thoughtfulness  with  which  questions  of  inter- 
national law,  of  social  science,  of  political  economy  are  discussed, 
are  proofs  of  the  manliness  and  breadth  of  the  literary  spirit  of  the 
age.  The  profoundest  thinkers  are  interested  in  these  studies;  and 
the  writers  of  the  English  language  are  foremost  in  the  discussion, 
Jeremy  Bentham  (1748-1832),  the  most  important  writer  upon 
ethics,  jurisprudence,  and  political  «conomy,  was  the  son  of  a  so- 
licitor in  London,  was  educated  at  Oxford,  and  was  called  to  the  bar, 
but  did  not  pursue  it  as  a  profession.  For  half  a  century  Bentham 
was  the  centre  of  an  influential  circle  of  philosophical  writers,  and 
was  the  founder  of  what  is  called  the  Utilitarian  school.  His 
maxim  as  a  social  reformer  was  "  the  greatest  happiness  to  the 
greatest  number."  In  setting  forth  the  way  by  which  such  happi- 
ness was  to  be  obtained,  he  held  what  was  considered  to  be  ex- 
tremely radical  ground.  It  is  upon  his  writings  on  jurisprudence 
that  his  fame  chiefly  rests ;  and  almost  all  the  improvements  in 
English  law  that  have  since  been  carried  into  effect  may  be  traced, 
either  directly  or  indirectly,  to  his  exertions  (344,  345). 


THE  RULERS   OF  ENGLAND. 


THE  SAXON  LINE. 


TUE  DANISH  LINE. 


THE  SAXON  LINE 
RESTORED. 


THE  NORMAN  LINE. 


THE  PLAXTAGENETS. 


THE  TUDORS. 


THE  STUARTS. 


Egbert,  (King  of  the  West  Saxons,  commonly 
called  the  first  king  of  England),  A.D.  827— 

Ethelwolf,  836—857. 

Ethelred,  857—871. 

Alfred  the  Great,  871—901. 

Edward,  901—925. 

Athelstan,  925—941. 

Edmund,  941—948. 

Edred,  948—955. 

Edwy,  955—959. 

Edgar  the  Peaceable,  959—975. 

Edward  II.,  975—979. 

Ethelred  the  Unready,  979— 1016. 

Edmund  Ironsides,  1010—1017. 

(  Canute  the  Great,  1017—1035. 

•<  Harold,  1035—1039. 

(  Hardicanute,  1039—1041. 

j  Edward  the  Confessor,  1041—1066. 
I  HaroM,  1066. 

f  William  the  Conqueror,  1066-1*87. 
I  William  II.  (Ruins).  10^7—1100. 
I  Henry  I.,  1100—1135. 
[Stephen  of  Blois,  1135—1154. 

Henry  II.,  1154-1189. 
Richard  I.,  1189— 1199. 
John.  1199— 121H. 
Henry  III.,  1210—1279. 
Edward  I.,  1272—1307. 
Edward  II.,  1307-1327. 
Edward  III.,  1327—1377. 
Richard  II.,  1377—1399. 
Henry  IV.,  1399—1413. 
Henry  V.,  1413—1422. 
Henry  VI.,  1422—1461. 
Edward  IV.,  1461—1483. 
Edward  V.,  1483. 
Richard  HI.,  1483—1485. 

[Henry  VII.,  1485—1509. 
Henry  VIII..  1509—1547. 
Edward  VI  ,  1547—1553. 
Mary,  1553-1558. 
Elizabeth,  1558—1603. 

j  .Tames  I.,  1603—1625. 
1  Charles  I.,  1625—1649. 

The  Commonwealth,  1649—1660. 


THE  STUARTS  AFTER  THE    j  Charles  II.,  1660—1685. 


RESTORATION. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  NASSAU. 

THE  LAST  OP  THE  STUARTS. 

THE  HOUSE  or  BRUNSWICK. 


|  James  II.,  1685—1688. 

j  William  IH.,  16S8-1702. 
1     and  Mary,  (died  1694). 

Anne,  1702—1714. 

f  George  I..  1714—1727. 
George  II..  1727—1760. 
George  III.,  1700—1820. 
Geonre  IV.,  1820— 1&30. 
William  IV..  1*30—1837. 
Victoria,  1837—          ^ 


A  LIST  OF  THE  POETS  LAUEEATE. 


Edmund  Spenser 1591—1599 

Samuel  Daniel 1599—1619 

Ben  Jonson    .         .        .        .        .        .  1619—1637 

(Interregnum) 

William  Davenant,  Knight    .        .        .  1660—1668 

*JohnDryden 1670—1689 

Thomas  Shaclwell 1689—1693 

NahumTate        .        .        .        .        .  1692—1715 

Nicholas  Howe 1715—1718 

fLawrence  Eusden        .        .        .        .  1718—1730 

Colley  Gibber 1730-1757 

William  Whitehead    ....  1757—1785 

Thomas  Warton 1785—1790 

{Henry  James  Pye  1790—1813 

Robert  Southey 1813-1843"" 

William  Wordsworth          .        .         .  1843—1850 

Alfred  Tennyson 1850— 

*  Though  Dryden  did  not  receive  his  letters-patent  until  tho  jear  1670,  he  never- 
theless was  paid  the  salary  for  the  two  preceding  years. 

t  For  Eusden  eee  'Dunciad,'  Book  I.,  line  63;  and  for  Colley  Cibber,  see  same 
work  passim. 

J  "Better  to  err  with  Pope  than  shine  with  Pye,"  says  Lord  Byron,  in  his  '  Hints 
from  Horace.'  And  again  in  the  'Vision  of  Judgment,'  the  same  poet  represents 
the  ghost  of  King  George  as  exclaiming,  on  hearing  Southey's  recitation  of  his 
'  Vision  '— 

"  What,  what ! 
Pye  come  again  ?  no  more — no  more  of  that !" 

It  is  by  these  notices  aloue  that  poor  Pye  still  hangs  on  the  human  nv^mory. 


SKETCH  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE, 


CHAPTER    I. 

TITERATURE  is  a  positive  element  of  civilized  life;  but  in 
~*-^  different  countries  and  epochs  it  exists  sometimes  as  a  passive 
taste  or  means  of  culture,  and  at  others  as  a  development  of  pro- 
ductive tendencies.  The  first  is  the  usual  fo*rm  in  colonial  societies, 
where  the  habit  of  looking  to  the  fatherland  for  intellectual  nutriment 
as  well  as  political  authority  is  the  natural  result  even  of  patriotic 
feeling.  In  academic  culture,  habitual  reading,  moral  and  domestic 
tastes,  and  cast  of  mind,  the  Americans  were  identified  with  the 
mother  country,  and,  in  all  essential  particulars,  would  naturally 
follow  the  style  thus  inherent  in  their  natures  and  confirmed  by 
habit  and  study.  At  first,  therefore,  the  literary  development  of 
the  United  States  was  imitative ;  but  with  the  progress  of  the 
country,  and  her  increased  leisure  and  means  of  education,  the 
writings  of  the  people  became  more  and  more  characteristic ;  theo- 
logical and  political  occasions  gradually  ceased  to  be  the  exclusive 
moulds  of  thought ;  and  didactic,  romantic,  and  picturesque  com- 
positions appeared  from  time  to  time.  Irving  peopled  "  Sleepy 
Hollow  "  with  fanciful  creations  ;  Bryant  described  not  only  with 
truth  and  grace,  but  with  devotional  sentiment,  the  characteristic 
scenes  of  his  native  land ;  Cooper  introduced  Europeans  to  the 
wonders  of  her  forest  and  sea-coast ;  Bancroft  made  her  story  elo- 
quent ;  and  Webster  proved  that  the  race  of  orators  who  once 
roused  her  children  to  freedom  was  not  extinct.  The  names  of 
Edwards  and  Franklin  were  echoed  abroad  ;  the  bonds  of  mental 
dependence  were  gradually  loosened ;  the  inherited  tastes  remained, 
but  they  were  freshened  with  a  more  native  zest ;  and  although 


AMERICAN    LITERATURE.  353 

Brockden  Brown  is  still  compared  to  Godwin,  Irving  to  Addison, 
Cooper  to  Scott,  Hoffman  to  Moore,  Emerson  to  Carlyle,  and  Holmes 
to  Pope,  a  characteristic  vein,  an  individuality  of  thought,  and  a 
local  significance  are  now  generally  recognized  in  the  emanations 
of  the  American  mind ;  and  the  best  of  them  rank  favorably  and 
harmoniously  with  similar  exemplars  in  British  literature ;  while, 
in  a  few  instances,  the  nationality  is  so  marked,  and  so  sanctioned 
by  true  genius,  as  to  challenge  the  recognition  of  all  impartial  and 
able  critics. 

The  intellect  of  the  country  first  developed  in  a  theological 
form.  This  was  a  natural  consequence  of  emigration,  induced  by 
difference  of  religious  opinion,  the  free  scope  which  the  new  colo- 
nies afforded  for  discussion,  and  the  variety  of  creeds  represented 
by  the  different  races  who  thus  met  on  a  common  soil,  including 
every  diversity  of  sentiment,  from  Puritanism  to  Episcopacy,  each 
extreme  modified  by  shades  of  doctrine  and  individual  speculation. 
The  clergy,  also,  were  the  best  educated  and  most  influential  class : 
in  political  and  social  as  well  as  religious  affairs,  their  voice  had  a 
controlling  power ;  and  for  a  considerable  period,  they  alone 
enjoyed  that  frequent  immunity  from  physical  labor  which  is  requi- 
site to  mental  productiveness.  The  colonial  era,  therefore,  boasted 
only  a  theological  literature,  for  the  most  part  fugitive  and  contro- 
versial, yet  sometimes  taking  a  more  permanent  shape,  as  in  the 
Biblical  Concordance  of  Newman,  and  some  of  the  writings  of 
Roger  Williams,  Increase  and  Cotton  Mather,  Mayhew,  Cooper, 
Stiles,  Dwight,  Elliot,  Johnson,  Chauncey,  Witherspoon,  and  Hop- 
kins. There  is  no  want  of  learning  or  reasoning  power  in  many  of 
the  tracts  of  those  once  formidable  disputants ;  and  such  reading 
accorded  with  the  stern  tastes  of  our  ancestors ;  but,  as  a  general 
rule,  the  specimens  which  yet  remain  in  print,  are  now  only  referred 
to  by  the  curious  student  of  divinity  or  the  antiquarian.  The 
celebrated  Treatise  on  the  Witt,  by  Dr.  Edwards,  an  enduring  relic 
of  this  epoch,  survives,  and,  in  its  sagacious  hardihood  of  thought, 
forms  a  characteristic  introduction  to  the  literary  history  of  New 
England. 

^  Jonathan  Edwards  (Specimens  of  American  Literature  3)  was 
the  only  son  of  a  Connecticut  minister  of  good  acquirements  and 
sincere  piety.  He  was  born  in  1703,  in  the  town  of  Windsor;  he 
entered  Yale  College  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  and  at  nineteen  be- 


354  JONATHAN     EDWARDS. 

came  a  settled  preacher  in  New  York.  In  1723  lie  was  elected  a 
tutor  in  the  college  at  New  Haven ;  and  after  discharging  its  duties 
with  eminent  success  for  two  years,  he  became  the  colleague  of  his 
grandfather,  in  the  ministry,  at  the  beautiful  village  of  Northamp- 
ton, in  Massachusetts.  Relieved  from  all  material  cares  by  the 
aflFection  of  his  wife,  his  time  was  entirely  given  to  professional 
occupations  and  study.  An  ancient  elm  is  yet  designated  in  the 
town  where  he  passed  so  many  years,  in  the  crotch  of  which  was 
his  favorite  seat,  where  he  was  accustomed  to  read  and  think  for 
hours  together.  His  sermons  began  to  attract  attention,  and  sev- 
eral were  republished  in  England.  As  a  writer,  he  first  gained 
celebrity  by  a  treatise  on  Ch4ginal  Sin.  He  was  inaugurated  Presi- 
dent of  Princeton  College,  N.  J.,  on  the  16th  of  February,  1757; 
and  on  the  22d  of  the  ensuing  March  died  of  small-pox,  which  then 
ravaged  the  vicinity. 

"This  remarkable  man,"  says  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  "the 
metaphysician  of  America,  was  formed  among  the  Calvinists  of 
New  England,  when  their  stern  doctrine  retained  its  vigorous 
authority.  His  power  of  subtile  argument,  perhaps  unmatched, 
certainly  unsurpassed  among  men,  was  joined,  as  in  some  of  the 
ancient  mystics,  with  a  character  which  raised  his  piety  to  fervor. 
He  embraced  their  doctrine,  probably  without  knowing  it  to  be 
theirs.  Had  he  suffered  this  noble  principle  to  take  the  right  road 
to  all  its  fair  consequences,  he  would  have  entirely  concurred  with 
Plato,  with  Shaftesbury  and  Malebranche,  in  devotion  to  '  the  first 
good,  first  perfect,  and  first  fair.'  But  he  thought  it  necessary 
afterwards  to  limit  his  doctrine  to  his  own  persuasion,  by  denying 
that  such  moral  excellence  could  be  discovered  in  divine  things  by 
those  Christians  who  did  not  take  the  same  view  with  him  of  their 
religion."  * 

Although  so  meagre  a  result,  as  far  as  regards  permanent  litera- 
ture, sprang  from  the  early  theological  writings  in  America,  they 
had  a  certain  strength  and  earnestness  which  tended  to  invigorate 
and  exercise  the  minds  of  the  people;  sometimes,  indeed,  con- 
ducive to  bigotry,  but  often  inciting  reflective  habits.  The  mental 
life  of  the  colonists  seemed,  for  a  long  time,  identical  with  religious 
discussion;  and  the  names  of  Anne  Hutchinson,  Roger  Williams 

*  Progress  of  Ethical  Philosophy. 


WILLIAM    ELLERY    CHANGING.  355 

(1),  George  Fox,  Whitefield,  the  early  field-preacher,  and  subse- 
quently those  of  Dr.  Hopkins,  and  Murray,  the  father  of  Universal- 
ism  in  America,  were  rallying  words  for  logical  warfare;  the 
struggle  between  the  advocates  of  Quakerism,  baptism  by  immer- 
sion, and  others  of  the  minority  against  those  of  the  old  Presbyte- 
rian and  Church  of  England  doctrine,  gave  birth  to  a  multitude  of 
tracts,  sermons,  and  oral  debates  which  elicited  no  little  acumen, 
rhetoric,  and  learning.  The  originality  and  productiveness  of  the 
American  mind  in  this  department  have,  indeed,  always  been 
characteristic  features  in  its  development.  Scholars  and  orators  of 
distinguished  ability  have  never  been  wanting  to  the  clerical  pro- 
fession among  us ;  and  every  sect  in  the  land  has  its  illustrious 
interpreters,  who  have  bequeathed,  or  still  contribute,  written 
memorials  of  their  ability.  The  diversity  of  sects  is  one  of  the 
most  curious  and  striking  facts  in  our  social  history,  and  is  fully 
illustrated  by  the  literary  organs  of  each  denomination,  from  the 
spiritual  commentaries  of  Bush  to  the  ardent  Catholicism  of 
Brownson  (  ).  About  the  commencement  of  the  present  century, 
a  memorable  conflict  took  place  between  the  orthodox  and  liberal 
party ;  and  among  the  writings  of  the  latter  may  be  found  more 
finished  specimens  of  composition  than  had  previously  appeared 
on  ethics  and  religion.  Independent  of  their  opinions,  the  high 
morality  and  beautiful  sentiment,  as  well  as  chaste  and  graceful 
diction,  of  the  leaders  of  that  school,  gave  a  literary  value  and  in- 
terest to  pulpit  eloquence  which  soon  exercised  a  marked  influence 
on  the  literary  taste  of  the  community.  Religious  and  moral 
writings  now  derived  a  new  interest  from  style.  At  the  head  of 
this  class,  who  achieved  a  world-wide  reputation  for  genius  in 
ethical  literature,  is  William  Ellery  Charming  (1780-184&)  (24). 
5\  Seventy-five  years  ago  there  might  have  been  seen,  threading 
the  streets  of  Richmond,  Va.,  a  diminutive  figure,  with  a  pale, 
attenuated  face,  eyes  of  spiritual  brightness,  an  expansive  and  calm 
brow,  and  movements  of  nervous  alacrity.  The  youth  was  one  of 
those  children  of  New  England,  braced  by  her  discipline,  and  early 
sent  forth  to  earn  a  position  in  the  world  by  force  of  character  and 
activity  of  intellect.  The  teachings  of  Harvard  had  yielded  him 
the  requisite  attainments  to  discharge  the  office  of  private  tutor  in 
a  wealthy  Virginian  family.  There,  far  from  the  companions  of  his 
studies  and  the  home  of  his  childhood,  through  secret  conflicts, 


356  WILLIAM    ELLEBT    CHAINING. 

devoted  application  to  books  and  meditation,  amid  privations, 
comparative  isolation,  and  premature  responsibility,  be  resolved  to 
consecrate  himself  to  the  Christian  ministry.  Thence  he  went  to 
Boston,  and  for  more  than  forty  years  pursued  the  consistent  tenor 
of  his  way  as  an  eloquent  divine  and  powerful  writer,  achieving  a 
wide  renown,  bequeathing  a  venerated  memory,  and  a  series  of  dis- 
courses, reviews,  and  essays,  which,  with  remarkable  perspicuity 
and  earnestness,  vindicate  the  cause  of  freedom,  the  original  en- 
dowments and  eternal  destiny  of  human  nature,  the  sanctions  of 
religion,  and  '  the  ways  of  God  to  man.'  He  died,  one  beautiful 
October  evening,  at  Bennington,  Vermont,  while  on  a  summer 
excursion,  and  was  buried  at  Mount  Auburn.  A  monument  com- 
memorates the  gratitude  of  his  parishioners  and  the  exalted  estima- 
tion he  had  acquired  in  the  world.  A  biography  prepared  by  his 
nephew  recounts  the  few  incidents  of  his  career,  and  gracefully  un- 
folds the  process  of  his  growth  and  mental  history. 

"  It  is  seldom  that  ethical  writings  interest  the  multitude.  The 
abstract  nature  of  the  topics  they  discuss,  and  the  formal  style  in 
which  they  are  usually  embodied,  are  equally  destitute  of  that 
popular  charm  that  wins  the  common  heart.  A  remarkable  excep- 
tion is  presented  in  the  literary  remains  of  Channing.  The  simple 
yet  comprehensive  ideas  upon  which  he  dwells,  the  tranquil  grav- 
ity of  his  utterance,  and  the  winning  clearness  of  his  style,  render 
many  of  his  productions  universally  attractive  as  examples  of  quiet 
and  persuasive  eloquence.  And  this  result  is  entirely  independent 
of  any  sympathy  with  his  theological  opinions,  or  experience  of 
his  pulpit  oratory.  Indeed,  the  genuine  interest  of  Dr.  Channing's 
writings  is  ethical.  As  the  champion  of  a  sect,  his  labors  have  but 
a  temporary  value  ;  as  the  exponent  of  a  doctrinal  system,  he  will 
not  long  be  remembered  with  gratitude,  because  the  world  is  daily 
better  appreciating  the  religious  sentiment  as  of  infinitely  more 
value  than  any  dogma ;  but  as  a  moral  essayist,  some  of  the  more 
finished  writings  of  Channing  will  have  a  permanent  hold  upon 
reflective  and  tasteful  minds." 

Of  all  the  foreign  commentators  on  our  political  institutions 
and  national  character.  \De  Tocquevillej  is  the  most  distinguished 
for  philosophical  insight ;  and  although  many  of  his  speculations 
are  visionary,  not  a  few  are  pregnant  with  reflective  wisdom.  He 
says  in  regard  to  the  literary  development  of  such  a  republic  as  our 


JOURNALISM   AND   EDUCATIONAL   WORKS.     357 

own,  that  its  early  fruits  "  will  bear  marks  of  an  untutored  and 
rude  vigor  of  thought,  frequently  of  great  variety  and  singular 
fecundity."  What  may  be  termed  the  casual  writing  and  speaking 
of  the  country,  confirms  this  prophecy.  The  two  most  prolific 
branches  of  literature  in  America  are  journalism  and  educational 
works.  The  aim  in  both  is  to  supply  that  immediate  demand 
which,  according  to  the  French  philosopher,  is  more  imperative 
and  prevailing  than  in  monarchical  lands.  Newspapers  and  school- 
books  are,  therefore,  the  characteristic  form  of  literature  in  the 
United  States.  The  greatest  scholars  'of  the  country  have  not 
deemed  the  production  of  the  latter  an  unworthy  labor,  nor  the 
most  active,  enterprising,  and  ambitious,  failed  to  exercise  their 
best  powers  in  the  former  sphere.  An  intelligent  foreigner,  there- 
fore, who  observed  the  predominance  of  these  two  departments, 
would  arrive  at  the  just  conclusion,  that  the  great  mental  distinc- 
tion of  the  nation  is  twofold — the  universality  of  education,  and  a 
general,  though  superficial,  intellectual  activity  in  the  mass  of  tlie 
people.  There  is,  however,  still  another  phase  of  our  literary  con- 
dition equally  significant ;  and  that  is  the  popularity  of  what  may 
be  termed  domestic  reading — a  species  of  books  intended  for  the 
family,  and  designed  to  teach  science,  religion,  morality,  the  love  of 
nature,  and  other  desirable  acquisitions.  These  works  range  from 
a  juvenile  to  a  mature  scope  and  interest,  both  in  form  -and  spirit, 
but  are  equally  free  of  all  extravagance, — except  it  be  purely  imagi- 
native,— and  are  unexceptional,  often  elevated,  in  moral  tone. 
They  constitute  the  literature  of  the  fireside,  and  give  to  the  young 
their  primary  ideas  of  the  world  and  of  life.  Hence  their  moral 
importance  can  scarcely  be  overrated.  Accordingly,  children's 
books  have  not  been  thought  unworthy  the  care  of  the  best  minds  ; 
philosophers  like  Guizot,  poets  like  Hans  Andersen,  popular  novel- 
ists like  Scott  and  Dickens,  have  not  scorned  this  apparently  hum- 
ble but  most  influential  service.  The  reform  in  books  for  the  young 
was  commenced  in  England  by  Maria  Edgeworth  and  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld,  when  the  Parents'1  Assistant  and  Original  Poems  for  Infant 
Minds  superseded  Mother  Goose  and  Jack  the  Giant-Killer;  and 
with  the  instinct  of  domestic  utility  so  prevalent  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  this  impulse  was  caught  up  and  prolonged  here,  and  re- 
sulted in  a  class  of  bocks  and  writers,  not  marked  by  high  genius 
or  striking  originality,  yet  honorable  to  the  good  sense  and  moral 


358  AMERICA  IT     ELOQUENCE. 

feeling  of  the  country.  These  have  supplied  the  countless  homes 
scattered  over  the  western  continent  with  innocent,  instructive,  and 
often  refined  reading,  sometimes  instinct  not  only  with  a  domestic 
but  a  national  spirit ;  often  abounding  with  the  most  fresh  and 
true  pictures  of  scenery,  customs,  and  local  traits,  and  usually  con- 
ceived in  a  tone  of  gentleness  and  purity  fitted  to  chasten  and  im- 
prove the  taste.  These  writers  have  usually  adapted  themselves 
equally  to  the  youngest  and  to  the  most  advanced  of  the  family 
circle — extended  their  labor  of  love  from  the  child's  story-book  to 
the  domestic  novel.  It  is  creditable  to  the  sex  that  this  sphere  has 
been  filled,  in  our  country,  chiefly  by  women,  the  list  of  whom  in- 
cludes a  long  array  of  endeared  and  honored  names. 

Oratory  is  eminently  the  literature  of  republics.  Political  free- 
dom gives  both  occasion  and  impulse  to  thought  on  public  in- 
terests ;  and  its  expression  is  a  requisite  accomplishment  to  every 
intelligent  and  patriotic  citizen.  American  eloquence,  although  not 
unknown  in  the  professional  spheres  of  colonial  life,  developed  with 
originality  and  richness  at  the  epoch  of  the  revolution.  Indeed, 
the  questions  that  agitated  the  country  naturally  induced  popular 
discussions,  and  as  a  sense  of  wrong  and  a  resolve  to  maintain  the 
rights  of  freemen  took  the  place  of  remonstrance  and  argument,  a 
race  of  orators  seems  to  have  sprung  to  life,  whose  chief  traits  con- 
tinue evident  in  a  long  and  illustrious  roll  of  names,  identified  with 
our  statesmen,  legislators,  and  divines.  From  the  striplingjHamil- 
ton,jwho,  in  July,  1774,  held  a  vast  concourse  in  breathless  excite- 
ment, in  the  fields  near  New  York,  while  he  demonstrated  the 
right  and  necessity  of  resistance  to  British  oppression,  to  the  ma- 
ture^Webster^who,  in  December,  1829,  defended  the  union  of  the 
states  with  an  argumentative  and  rhetorical  power  ever  memorable 
in  the  annals  of  legislation,  there  has  been  a  series  of  remarkable 
public  speakers  who  have  nobly  illustrated  this  branch  of  literature 
in  the  United  States.  The  fame  of  American  eloquence  is  in  part 
traditionary.  Warren,  (Adams,]  and  Otis  in  Boston,  and  (Patrick 
Henryjin  Virginia,  by  their  spirit-stirring  appeals,  roused  the  land 
to  the  assertion  and  defence  of  its  just  rights ;  and  Alexander  Ham- 
ilton, Gouverneur  Morris,  Pinckney,  Jay,  Rutledge,  and  other  firm 
and  gifted  men  gave  wise  and  effective  direction  to  the  power  thus 
evoked,  by  their  logical  and  earnest  appeals.  \j» 

Foremost  amon^  these  remarkable  men  was  Alexander  Hamil- 


ALEXANDER     HAMILTON.  359 

ton  (1757-1804)  («6),  by  birth  a  West  Indian,  by  descent  uniting 
the  Scotch  vigor  and  sagacity  of  character  with  the  accomplishment 
of  the  French.  While  a  collegian  in  New  York,  his  talents,  at 
once  versatile  and  brilliant,  were  apparent  in  the  insight  and  poetry 
of  his  debates,  the  solemn  beauty  of  his  devotion,  the  serious  argu- 
ment of  his  ambitious  labors,  and  the  readiness  of  his  humorous 
sallies;  with  genuine  religious  sentiment,  born  perhaps  of  his 
Huguenot  blood,  he  united  a  zest  for  pleasure,  a  mercurial  temper- 
ament, and  grave  aspirations.  In  his  first  youth  the  gentleman,  the 
pietist,  the  hero,  and  the  statesman,  alternately  exhibited,  sometimes 
dazzled,  at  others  impressed,  and  always  won  the  hearts  of  his  com- 
rades. His  first  public  demonstration  was  as  an  orator,  when  but 
seventeen;  and  notwithstanding  his  slender  figure  and  extreme 
youth,  he  took  captive  both  the  reason  and  feeling  of  a  popular 
assembly.  Shortly  after  he  became  involved  in  the  controversy 
then  raging  between  Whigs  and  Tories ;  and  his  pamphlets  and 
newspaper  essays  were  read  with  mingled  admiration  and  incred- 
ulity at  the  rare  powers  of  expression  and  mature  judgment  thus 
displayed  by  the  juvenile  antagonist  of  bishops  and  statesmen. 

The  idol  of  the  Federal  party,  and  a  candidate  for  the  chief 
magistracy,  he  became  entangled  in  a  duel  planned  by  political 
animosity,  and  fell  at  Weehawken,  opposite  the  city  of  New  York, 
by  the  hand  of  Aaron  Burr,  on  the  llth  of  July,  1804.  The  im- 
pression caused  by  his  untimely  death  was  unprecedented  in  this 
country  ;  for  no  public  man  ever  stood  forth  "  so  clear  in  his  great 
office,"  more  essentially  useful  in  affairs,  courageous  in  battle,  loyal 
in  attachment,  gifted  in  mind,  or  graceful  in  manner.  During  a 
life  of  varied  and  absorbing  occupation,  he  found  time  to  put  on 
record  his  principles  as  a  statesman :  not  always  highly  finished, 
his  writings  are  full  of  sense  and  energy  ;  their  tone  is  noble,  their 
insight  often  deep,  and  the  wisdom  they  display  remarkable.  His 
letters  are  finely  characteristic,  his  state  papers  valuable,  and  the 
Federalist  a  significant  illustration  both  of  his  genius  and  the  age. 

'The  historical  and  literary  anniversaries  of  such  frequent  occur- 
rence in  this  country,  and  the  exigencies  of  political  life,  give  occa- 
sion for  the  exercise  of  oratory  to  educated  citizens  of  all  professions 
— from  the  statesman  who  fills  the  gaze  of  the  world,  to  the  village 
pastor  and  country  advocate.  Accordingly,  a  large,  and,  on  the 
whole,  remarkably  creditable  body  of  discourses,  emanating  from 


300  DANIEL     WEBSTER. 

the  best  minds  of  the  country,  have  been  published  in  collected 
editions,  to  such  an  extent  as  to  constitute  a  decided  feature  of 
American  literature.  They  are  characteristic  also  as  indicating  the 
popular  shape  into  which  intellectual  labors  naturally  ran  in  a 
young  and  free  country,  and  the  fugitive  and  occasional  literary 
efforts  which  alone  are  practicable  for  the  majority  even  of  scholars. 
The  most  solid  of  this  class  of  writings  are  the  productions  of 
statesmen  ;  and  of  these,  three  are  conspicuous,  although  singularly 
diverse  both  in  style  and  cast  of  thought — Webster,;  Calhoun,  and 
Clay,  i  Webster's  oration  at  Plymouth  in  1820  ;  his  address  at  the 
laying  of  the  corner-  stone  of  the  Bunker  Hill  Monument,  half  a 
century  after  the  battle ;  his  discourse  on  the  deaths  of  Adams  and 
Jefferson,  the  following  year ;  and  his  reply  to  Hayne,  in  the  U.  S. 
Senate,  in  1829,  are  memorable  specimens  of  oratory,  and  recognized 
everywhere  as  among  the  greatest  instances  of  genius  in  this  branch 
of  letters  in  modern  times.  These  are,  however,  but  a  very  small 
part  of  his  speeches  and  forensic  arguments,  which  constitute  a 
permanent  and  characteristic,  as  well  as  intrinsically  valuable  and 
interesting  portion  of  our  native  literature. 

Daniel  Webster  (1782-1852)  was  the  son  of  a  New  Hampshire 
farmer  (85).  He  was  born  in  1782,  graduated  at  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, and  began  the  practice  of  law  at  a  village  near  Salisbury,  his 
birthplace,  but  removed  to  Portsmouth  in  1807.  He  soon  distin- 
guished himself  at  the  bar,  and  as  a  member  of  the  House  of 
Representatives ;  retired  from  Congress  and  removed  to  Boston  in 
1817  ;  and  by  his  able  arguments  in  the  Supreme  Court,  as  well  as 
his  unrivalled  eloquence  on  special  occasions,  was  very  soon  ac- 
knowledged to  be  one  of  the  greatest  men  America  had  produced. 
His  career  as  a  senator,  a  foreign  minister,  and  secretary  of  state, 
was  no  less  illustrious  than  his  professional  triumphs ;  but,  as  far 
as  literature  is  concerned,  he  will  be  remembered  by  his  state  papers 
and  speeches.  His  style  is  remarkable  for  great  clearness  of  state- 
ment. It  is  singularly  emphatic.  Clearness  of  statement,  vigor  of 
reasoning,  and  a  faculty  of  making  a  question  plain  to  the  under- 
standing by  the  mere  terms  in  which  it  is  presented,  are  the  traits 
which  uniformly  distinguish  his  writings,  evident  alike  in  a  diplo- 
matic note,  a  legislative  debate,  and  an  historical  discourse.  His 
dignity  of  expression,  breadth  of  view,  and  force  of  thought, 
realize  the  ideal  of  a  republican  statesman,  in  regard,  at  least,  to 


CLAY,     CALHOUN,     EVERETT.  361 

natural  endowments ;  and  bis  presence  and  manner,  in  the  prime 
of  his  life,  were  analogous. 

In  the  speeches  of  Henry  Clay  (1777-1852)  (80)  there  is  a 
chivalric  freshness  which  readily  explains  his  great  popularity  as 
a  man ;  not  so  profound  as  Webster,  he  is  far  more  rhetorical 
and  equally  patriotic.  The  mind  of  John  Caldwell  Calhoun 
(1782-1850)  had  that  precise  energy  which  is  so  effectual  in  de- 
bate ;  his  style  of  argument  is  concise  ;  and  in  personal  aspect  he 
was  quite  as  remarkable — the  incarnation  of  intense  puqjose  and 
keen  perception.  These  and  many  other  eminent  men  have  ad- 
mirably illustrated  that  department  of  oratory  which  belongs  to 
statesmen. 

Fisher  Ames  (88),  William  Wirt,  John  Quincy  Adams  (78),  and 
others,  famed  as  debaters,  have  united  to  this  distinction  the  re- 
nown of  able  rhetoricians  on  literary  and  historical  occasions ;  and 
to  these  we  may  add  the  names  of  Verplanck,  Chief  Justice  Story, 
Chancellor  Kent,  Rufus  Choate  (92),  and  many  other  authors  of 
occasional  addresses,  having,  by  their  scope  of  thought  or  beauty 
of  style,  a  permanent  literary  value.  The  most  voluminous  writer 
in  this  department,  however,  is  Edward  Everett  (1794-1865) 
(190)5^  His  volumes  not  only  exhibit  the  finest  specimens  of  rhe- 
torical writing,  but  they  also  truly  represent  the  cultivated  Amer- 
ican mind  in  literature.  Edward  Everett's  Orations  are  as  pure  in 
style,  as  able  in  statement,  and  as  authentic  as  expressions  of  pop- 
ular history,  feeling,  and  opinion  in  a  finished  and  elegant  shape,  as 
were  those  of  Demosthenes  and  Cicero  in  their  day.  They  embody 
the  results  of  long  and  faithful  research  into  the  most  important 
facts  of  our  history  ;  they  give  "  a  local  habitation  and  a  name"  to 
the  most  patriotic  associations  ;  their  subjects,  not  less  than  their 
sentiments,  are  thoroughly  national ;  not  a  page  but  glows  with  the 
most  intelligent  love  of  country,  nor  a  figure,  description,  or  appeal 
but  what  bears  evidence  of  scholarship,  taste,  and  just  sentiment. 
The  great  battles  of  the  revolution,  the  sufferings  and  principles 
of  the  early  colonists,  the  characters  of  our  leading  statesmen,  the 
progress  of  arts,  sciences,  and  education  among  us — all  those  great 
interests  which  are  characteristic,  to  the  philosopher,  of  a  nation's 
life — are  here  expounded,  now  by  important  facts,  now  by  eloquent 
illustrations,  and  again  in  the  form  of  impressive  and  graceful 
comments.  History,  essays,  descriptive  sketches,  biographical  data. 


3C2  EDWARD     EVERETT. 

picturesque  detail,  and  general  principles,  are  all  blent  together 
with  a  tact,  a  distinctness,  a  felicity  of  expression,  and  a  unity  of 
style  unexampled  in  this  species  of  writing.  The  old  should  grow 
familiar  with  their  pages  to  keep  alive  the  glow  of  enlightened 
patriotism  ;  and  the  young  to  learu  a  wise  love  of  country  and  the 
graces  of  refined  scholarship. 

Edward  Everett,  after  the  issue  of  three  substantial  volumes  of 
orations,  which,  in  view  of  both  topics  and  treatment,  may  be  justly 
regarded  as  of  national  value  and  significance,  at  the  age  of  sixty 
traversed  the  United  States  to  deliver  his  oration  on  the  character 
of  "Washington,  for  the  twofold  patriotic  purpose  of  allaying  the 
sectional  animosity  which  afterwards  culminated  in  civil  war,  and 
to  raise  the  funds  requisite  for  the  purchase  of  Mount  Vernon— the 
home  and  tomb  of  Washington.  During  the  civil  conflict  the  elo- 
quent voice  and  pen  of  Everett  were  constantly  pleading  and  pro- 
testing for  the  Union,  and,  crowned  with  this  final  work  of  honor 
and  patriotism,  he  died  on  the  15th  of  January,  1865. 

There  is  no  branch  of  literature  that  can  be  cultivated  in  a 
republic  with  more  advantage  to  the  reader,  and  satisfaction  to  the 
author,  than  History.  Untrammelled  by  proscription,  and  unawed 
by  political  authority,  the  annalist  may  trace  the  events  of  the  past, 
and  connect  them,  by  philosophical  analogy,  with  the  tendencies 
of  the  present,  free  to  impart  the  glow  of  honest  conviction  to  his 
record,  to  analyze  the  conduct  of  leaders,  the  theory  of  parties,  and 
the  significance  of  events.  The  facts,  too,  of  our  history  are  com- 
paratively recent.  It  is  not  requisite  to  conjure  up  fabulous  tradi- 
tions, or  explore  the  dim  regions  of  antiquity.  From  her  origin 
the  nation  was  civilized.  A  backward  glance  at  the  state  of 
Europe,  the  causes  of  emigration,  and  the  standard  of  political  and 
social  advancement  at  the  epoch  of  the  first  colonies  in  North  Amer- 
ica, is  all  that  we  need  to  start  intelligently  upon  the  track  of  our 
country's  marvellous  growth,  and  brief,  though  eventful  career. 
There  are  relations,  however,  both  to  the  past  and  future,  which 
render  American  history  the  most  suggestive  episode  in  the  annals 
of  the  world,  and  give  it  a  universal  as  well  as  special  dignity.  To 
those  who  chiefly  value  facts  as  illustrative  of  principles,  and  sec 
in  the  course  of  events  the  grand  problem  of  humanity,  the  occur- 
rences in  the  New  World,  from  its  discovery  to  the  present  hour, 
offer  a  comprehensive  interest  unrecognized  by  those  who  only 


ilCA 

c/V^Jar 


JARED     SPAEKS.  363 

regard  details.  Justly  interpreted,  the  liberty  and  progress  of 
mankind,  illustrated  by  the  history  of  the  United  States,  are  but 
the  practical  demonstration  of  principles  which  the  noblest  spirits 
of  England  advocated  with  their  pens,  and  often  sealed  with  their 
blood.  It  is  through  an  intimate  and  direct  relation  with  the  past 
of  the  Old  World,  and  as  initiative  to  her  ultimate  self-enfranchise- 
ment, that  our  history  daily  grows  in  value  and  interest,  unfolds 
new  meaning,  and  becomes  endeared  to  all  thinking  men.  It  is 
a  link  between  two  great  cycles  of  human  progress ;  the  ark 
that,  floating  safely  on  the  ocean-tide  of  humanity,  preserves  those 
elements  of  national  freedom  which  are  the  vital  hope  of  the 
world. 

The  labors  of  American  historians  have  been,  for  the  most  part, 
confined  to  the  acquisition  of  materials,  the  unadorned  record  of 
facts ;  their  subjects  have  been  chiefly  local ;  and  in  very  few  cases 
have  their  labors  derived  any  charm  from  the  graces  of  style,  or  the 
resources  of  philosophy ;  they  are  usually  crude  memoranda  of 
events,  not  always  reliable,  though  often  curious.  In  a  few  in- 
stances care  and  scholarship  render  such  contributions  to  American 
history  intrinsically  valuable ;  but,  taken  together,  they  are  rather 
materials  for  the  annalist  than  complete  works,  and  as  such  will 
prove  of  considerable  value.  It  is  to  collect  and  preserve  these  and 
other  records  that  historical  societies  have  been  formed  in  so  many 
of  the  states.  A  storehouse  of  data  is  thus  formed,  to  which  the 
future  historian  can  resort ;  and  probably  the  greater  part  of  the 
local  narratives  is  destined  either  to  be  re-written  with  all  the 
amenities  of  literary  tact  and  refinement,  or,  cast  in  the  mould  of 
genius,  become  identified  with  the  future  triumphs  of  the  American 
novelist  and  poet.  In  the  mean  time,  all  honor  is  due  to  those  who 
have  assiduously  labored  to  record  the  great  events  which  have 
here  occurred,  and  to  preserve  the  memories  of  our  patriots. 
Jared  Sparks  (1794-1866)  (124),  late  president  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity, has  labored  most  effectually  in  this  sphere.  In  a  series  of 
well-written  biographies,  and  in  the  collected  Letters  of  Washing- 
ton and  Franklin,  which  he  has  edited,  we  have  a  rich  fund  of 
national  material.  Nor  should  the  "  Archives  "  of  the  venerable 
Peter  Force  be  forgotten. 

Among  the  earliest  and  most  indefatigable  laborers  in  the  field 
of  history  was  Ramsay.  His  Historical  View  of  the  World,  from  tha 


3b'4  D  A  V  I  JD     RAMSAY. 

earliest  Record  to  the  Nineteenth  Century,  with  a  Particular  Reference 
to  the  State  of  Society,  Literature,  Religion,  and  Form  of  Government 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  was  published  in  1819  ;  a  previous 
work  early  in  1817 ;  and  more  than  forty  years,  during  intervals  of 
leisure  in  an  active  life,  were  thus  occupied  by  a  man  not  more 
remarkable  for  mental  assiduity  than  for  all  the  social  graces  and 
lid  excellences  of  human  character. 

Dr.  David  Ramsay  (1749-1815)  (114),  a  native  of  Lancaster 
county,  Pennsylvania,  was  the  son  of  an  Irish  emigrant.  After 
graduating  at  Princeton  College,  and,  according  to  the  custom  of 
the  period,  devoting  two  years  to  private  tuition,  he  studied  medi- 
cine, and  removed  to  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  where  he  soon 
became  a  distinguished  patriotic  writer.  He  was  a  surgeon  in  the 
American  army,  and  active  in  the  councils  of  the  land,  suffering, 
with  other  votaries  of  independence,  the  penalty  of  several  months' 
banishment  to  St.  Augustine.  He  earnestly  opposed,  in  the  legis- 
lature of  the  state,  the  confiscation  of  loyalist  property.  In  1782 
he  became  a  member  of  the  Continental  Congress ;  he  three  years 
after  represented  the  Charleston  district,  and  for  a  year  was  presi- 
dent of  that  body,  in  the  absence  of  Hancock.  He  died  in  1815,  in 
consequence  of  wounds  received  from  the  pistol  of  a  maniac.  Re- 
markable for  a  conciliatory  disposition  and  ardent  patriotism,  he 
was  a  fluent  speaker,  and  a  man  of  great  literary  industry.  Besides 
a  History  of  the  Revolution  in  South  Carolina,  which  was  translated 
and  published  in  France,  a  -IIMwy  of  the  American  Revolution, 
which  reached  a  second  edition,  a,\Life  of  Washington,  knd  a  His- 
tory of  South  Carolina,  he  left  a  History  of  the  United  ittates,.  from 
their  first  settlement  to  the  year  1808, — a  monument  of  his  un- 
wearied and  zealous  research,  and  patient  labor  for  the  good  of  the 
public,  and  the  honor  of  his  country. 

The  most  successful  attempt  yet  made  to  reduce  the  chaotic  but 
rich  materials  of  American  history  to  order,  beauty,  and  moral  sig- 
nificance, is  the  work  of  George  Bancroft  (1800-  ^V  )  (la9)- 
This  author  was  born  in  Worcester,  Massachusetts,  in  the  year  1800 ; 
he  is  the  son  of  Rev.  Aaron  Bancroft,  D.  D.,  for  more  than  half  a 
century  minister  of  that  town,  a  man  highly  venerated,  and  de- 
voted to  historical  research,  particularly  as  regards  his  native 
country.  Thus  under  the  paternal  roof,  and  from  his  earliest  age, 
the  sympathies  and  taste  of  the  son  were  awakened  to  the  subject 


GEORGE     BANCROFT.  3b'5 

of  American  history.  The  inadequate  history  of  Judge  Marshall, 
and  the  careful  one  relating  to  the  colonial  period  by  Grahame, 
wera  previously  the  only  works  devoted  to  the  subject.  Our  revo- 
lution, in  its  most  interesting  details,  was  known  in  Europe  chiefly 
through  the  attractive  pages  of  Carlo  Botta.  With  the  ground 
thus  unoccupied,  Mr.  Bancroft  commenced  his  labors.  Ho  was 
prepared  for  them  not  only  by  culture  and  talent,  but  by  an  earnest 
sympathy  with  the  spirit  of  the  age  he  was  to  illustrate.  Having 
passed  through  the  discipline  of  a  brilliant  scholastic  career  at  the 
best  university  in  the  country,  studied  theology,  and  engaged  in  the 
classical  education  of  youth,  he  had  also  visited  Europe,  and  be- 
come imbued  with  the  love  of  German  literature ;  he  was  for  two 
years  a  pupil  of  Ileeren,  at  Gottingen,  and  mingled  freely  with  the 
learned  coteries  of  Berlin  and  Heidelberg.  His  two  first  published 
works,  after  his  return  to  the  United  States,  are  remarkably  sug- 
gestive of  his  traits  of  mind,  and  indicate  that  versatility  which  is 
so  desirable  in  an  historian.  These  were  a  small  volume  of  metrical 
pieces,  mainly  expressive  of  his  individual  feelings  and  experience ; 
and  a  translation  of  Professor  Heeren's  Reflections  on  the  Politics  of 
Ancient  Greece:  thus  early  both  the  poetic  and  the  philosophic 
elements  were  developed ;  and  although,  soon  after,  Mr.  Bancroft 
entered  actively  into  political  life,  and  held  several  high  offices 
under  the  general  government,  including  that  of  minister  to  Great 
Britain,  he  continued  to  prosecute  his  historical  researches,  under 
the  most  favorable  auspices,  both  at  home  and  abroad,  and  from  time 
to  time  put  forth  the  successive  volumes  of  the  History  of  the  United 
States.  To  this  noble  task  he  brought  great  and  patient  industry,  an 
eloquent  style,  and  a  capacity  to  array  the  theme  in  the  garb  of 
philosophy.  Throughout  he  is  the  advocate  of  democratic  institu- 
tions; and  in  the  early  volumes,  where,  by  the  nature  of  the  sub- 
ject, there  is  little  scope  for  attractive  detail,  by  infusing  a  reflec- 
tive tone,  he  rescues  the  narrative  from  dryness  and  monotony. 
But  it  is  the  under-current  of  thought,  rather  than  the  brilliant 
surface  of  description,  which  gives  intellectual  value  to  Bancroft's 
History,  and  has  secured  for  it  so  high  and  extensive  a  reputation. 
In  sentiment  and  principles  it  is  thoroughly  American  ;  but  in  its 
style  and  philosophy  it  has  that  broad  and  eclectic  spirit  appro- 
priate both  to  the  general  interest  of  the  subject  and  the  enlight- 
ened sympathies  of  the  age.  Nine  volumes  of  the  work  are  pub- 


366  RICHARD     H  I  L  L)  R  E  T  H . 

iishecl.  The  first  three  narrate  the  settlement  of  the  Colonies,  the 
next  three  explain  the  estrangement  from  the  mother  country,  and 
the  last  three  tell  the  slory  of  the  war  for  Independence. 

A  History  of  the  United  States,  by  Richard  Hildreth  (1807-18G5), 
will  probably  become  a  standard  book  of  reference.  Rhetorical 
graca  and  effect,  picturesqueness  and  the  impress  of  individual 
opinion,  are  traits  which  the  author  either  rejects  or  keeps  in  abey- 
ance. His  narrative  is  plain  and  straightforward,  confined  to  facts 
which  he  seems  to  have  gleaned  with  great  care  and  conscientious- 
ness. The  special  merit  of  his  work  consists  in  the  absence  of 
whatever  can  possibly  be  deemed  either  irrelevant  or  ostentatious. 
A  History  of  Liberty,  by  Samuel  Eliot  (1821-  ),  is  the  work  of 
scholarship  and  taste,  but  not  of  poetic  inspiration  or  philosophy; 
it  is,  however,  an  elegant  addition  to  our  native  writings  in  this 
sphere.  In  a  popular  form,  the  most  creditable  performance  is  the 

(Field-Book  of  the  Revolutionjhy  Benson  J.  Lossing  (1813-  ) 
(  ),  a  wood-engraver  by  profession,  who  has  visited  ail  the 
scenes  of  that  memorable  war,  and,  with  pen  and  pencil,  delineated 
each  incident  of  importance,  and  every  object  of  local  interest. 
His  work  is  one  which  is  destined  to  find  its  way  to  every  farmer's 
hearth  and  to  all  the  school  libraries  of  our  country. 

The  freshness  of  his  subjects,  the  beauty  of  his  style,  and  the 

^  vast  difficulties  he  bravely  surmounted,  gained  for  William  Hickling 
Prescott  (1796-1859)  not  only  an  extensive  but  a  remarkably  speedy 
reputation,  after  the  appearance  of  his  first  history  (126).  He 
was  the  grandson  of  Colonel  William  Prescott,  who  commanded 
the  Americans  at  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  He  was  born  in  Salem, 
Massachusetts,  on  the  4th  of  May,  1796.  Educated  in  boyhood  by 
Dr.  Gardiner,  a  fine  classical  teacher,  he  entered  Harvard  College  in 
1814.  He  studied  law,  and  passed  two  years  in  Europe.  In  1838 
was  published  his  History  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella,  which  met  with 
almost  immediate  and  unprecedented  success.  It  was  soon  trans- 
lated into  all  the  modern  European  languages.  He  died  in  Boston, 
January  23,  1859.  Many  years  of  study,  travel,  and  occasional 
practice  in  writing,  preceded  the  long-cherished  design  of  achiev- 
ing an  historical  fame.  Although  greatly  impeded,  at  the  outset, 
by  a  vision  so  imperfect  as  to  threaten  absolute  blindness,  in  other 
respects  he  was  singularly  fortunate.  Unlike  the  majority  of  intel- 
lectual aspirants,  lie  had  at  his  command  the  means  to  procure  the 


WILLIAM     H.    PRESCOTT.  367 

needful  but  expensive  materials  for  illustrating  a  subject  more  pro- 
lific, at  once,  of  romantic  charms  and  great  elements  of  human 
destiny,  than  any  unappropriated  theme  offered  by  the  whole  range 
of  history.  It  included  the  momentous  voyage  of  Columbus,  the 
fall  of  the  Moorish  empire  in  Spain,  and  the  many  and  eventful 
consequences  thence  resulting.  Aided  by  the  researches  of  our 
minister  at  Madrid,*  himself  an  enthusiast  in  letters,  Mr.  Prescott 
soon  possessed  himself  of  ample  documents  and  printed  authorities. 
These  he  caused  to  be  read  to  him,  and  during  the  process  dictated 
notes,  which  were  afterwards  so  frequently  repeated  orally  that  his 
mind  gradually  possessed  itself  of  all  the  important  details ;  and 
these  he  clothed  in  his  own  language,  arranged  them  with  discrim- 
ination, and  made  out  a  consecutive  and  harmonious  narrative. 
Tedious  as  such  a  course  must  be,  and  laborious  in  the  highest  de- 
gree as  it  proved,  I  am  disposed  to  attribute  to  it,  in  a  measure  at 
least,  some  of  Mr.  Prescott's  greatest  charms  as  a  historian — the  re- 
markable evenness  and  sustained  harmony,  the  unity  of  conception 
and  ease  of  manner,  as  rare  as  it  is  delightful.  The  History  of  Fer- 
dinand and  Isabella,  is  a  work  that  unites  the  fascination  of  romantic 
fiction  with  the  grave  interest  of  authentic  events.  Its  author 
makes  no  pretension  to  analytical  power,  except  in  the  arrangement 
of  his  materials  ;  he  is  content  to  describe,  and  his  talents  are  more 
artistic  than  philosophical ;  neither  is  any  cherished  theory  or 
principle  obvious;  his  ambition  is  apparently  limited  to  skilful 
narration.  Indefatigable  in  research,  sagacious  in  the  choice  and 
comparison  of  authorities,  serene  in  temper,  graceful  in  style,  and 
pleasing  in  sentiment,  he  possesses  alt  the  requisites  for  an  agreeable 
writer;  while  his  subjects  have  yielded  so  much  of  picturesque 
material  and  romantic  interest,  as  to  atone  for  the  lack  of  any  more 
original  or  brilliant  qualities  in  the  author.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella 
was  followed  by  The  Conquest  of  Mexico  and  The  Conquest  of  Peru. 
The  scenic  descriptions  and  the  portraits  of  the  Spanish  leaders, 
and  of  Montezuma  and  Guatimozin,  in  the  former  work.  <rive  to  it 

1    O 

all  the  charm  of  an  effective  romance.  Few  works  of  imagination 
have  more  power  to  win  the  fancy  and  touch  the  heart.  The  in- 
sight afforded  into  Aztec  civilization  is  another  source  of  interest, 
Prescott's  last  historical  work,  Philip  //.,  was  left  unfinished. 

*  Alexander  II.  Everett, 


368  JOHN     LOTH  U  OP     MOTLEY. 

John  Lothrop  Motley  (1814-  )  has  gained  a  European 
reputation  by  his  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,  and  History  of  the 
United  Netherlands, — works  of  elaborate  research  and  artistic  finish, 
written  with  an  earnest  sympathy  in  the  struggles  of  those  who 
laid  the  foundations  of  civil  and  religious  freedom,  and  with  a 
force  and  grace  of  style  both  appropriate  and  attractive.  A  valu- 
able addition  to  this  department  also  is  the  History  of  New  Eng- 
land, by  John  Gorham  Palfrey  (1796-  ),  wherein  is  evident 
much  original  research  and  a  more  comprehensive  and  vivid  treat- 
ment than  had  before  been  given  to  the  subject.  In  the  sphere  of 
philology  and  economical  science,  George  P.  Marsh  (1801-  ) 
has  written  with  erudition  and  efficiency ;  his  Origin  and  History 
of  the  English  Language,  his  Lectures  on  ilie  English  Language,  and 
his  treatise  entitled  Man  and  Nature,  have  been  recognized  as  sin- 
gularly able  and  suggestive  works  on  both  sides  of  the  ocean.  In 
popular  biography  James  Parton  has  won  distinction  by  the 
thoroughness  of  his  investigation,  and  the  dramatic  form  of  his  de- 
lineation ;  his  lives  of  Burr,  Jackson,  and  Franklin  are  read  and 
relished  by  thousands. 

Another  of  the  few  standard  works  in  this  department,  of  native 
origin,  is  the  Life  and  Voyages  of  Columbus,  by  Washington  Irving 
(181).  Ostensibly  a  biography,  it  partakes  largely  of  the  historical 
character.  As  in  the  case  of  Prescott,  the  friendly  suggestions  of 
our  minister  at  Madrid  greatly  promoted  the  enterprise.  The 
work  is  based  on  the  researches  of  Navarette,  and  it  is  a  highly 
fortunate  circumstance  that  the  crude  though  invaluable  data  thus 
gathered  were  first  put  in  shape  and  adorned  with  the  elegances  of 
a  polished  diction,  by  an  American  writer  at  once  so  popular  and 
so  capable  as  Irving.  The  result  is  a  Life  of  Columbus,  authentic, 
clear,  and  animated  in  narration,  graphic  in  its  descriptive  epi- 
sodes, and  sustained  and  finished  in  style.  It  is  a  permanent  con- 
tribution to  English  as  well  as  American  literature, — one  which 
was  greatly  needed,  and  most  appropriately  supplied. 

Henry  Wheaton  (1785-1848),  long  our  minister  at  Berlin,  ia 
chiefly  known  to  literary  fame  by  his  able  Treatise  on  International 
Law ;  but,  while  charge  d'affaires  in  Denmark,  he  engaged  with 
zeal  in  historical  studies,  and  published  in  London,  in  1831,  a  His- 
tory of  the  Northmen,  a  most  curious,  valuable,  and  suggestive, 
though  limited  work. 


COOPER,     P  A  R  K  M  A  X  .  369 

James  Fenimore  Cooper's  (  )  Naval  Hitfory  of  the  United  •'.  V" 
States,  although  not  so  complete  as  is  desirable,  is  a  most  interesf- 
ing  work,  abounding  in  scenes  of  generous  valor  and  rare  excite- 
ment, recounted  with  the  tact  and  spirit  which  the  author's  taste 
and  practice  so  admirably  fitted  him  to  exhibit  on  such  a  theme. 
Some  of  the  descriptions  of  naval  warfare  are  picturesque  and 
thrilling  in  the  highest  degree.  The  work,  too,  is  an  eloquent 
appeal  to  patriotic  sentiment  and  national  pride.  It  is  one  of  the 
most  characteristic  histories,  both  in  regard  to  subject  and  style, 
yet  produced  in  America. 

One  of  the  most  satisfactory  of  historical  works  is  The  Con- 
spiracy of  Pontiac,  by  Francis  Parkman  (1823-  )  (145),  of  Bos- 
ton. During  a  tour  in  the  Far  West,  where  he  hunted  the  buffalo 
and  fraternized  with  the  Indians,  the  author  gained  that  practical 
knowledge  of  aboriginal  habits  and  character  which  enabled  him  to 
delineate  the  subject  chosen  with  singular  truth  and  effect.  Having 
faithfully  explored  the  annals  of  the  French  and  Indian  war,  he 
applied  to  its  elucidation  the  vivid  impressions  derived  from  his 
sojourn  in  forest  and  prairie,  his  observation  of  Indian  life,  and  his 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  history  of  the  Red  Men.  The  result  is 
not  only  a  reliable  and  admirably  planned  narrative,  but  ono  of  the 
most  picturesque  and  romantic  yet  produced  in  America.  Few 
subjects  are  more  dramatic  and  rich  in  local  associations ;  and  the 
previous  discipline  and  excellent  style  of  the  author  have  imparted 
to  it  a  permanent  attraction.  Pioneers  of  France  in  the  New  World 
is  a  charming  historical  narrative  from  the  same  pen. 


CHAPTER    II. 

Belles  Lettres.  Influence  of  British  Essayists.  FRANKLIN.  DENNTE.  Sign*  of 
Literary  Improvement  JONATHAN  OLDSTYLE.  WASHINGTON  IRVING.  His 
Knickerbocker.  Sketch-Book.  His  other  Works.  Popularity.  Tour  on  the 
Prairies.  Character  as  an  Author.  DANA.  WTILDE.  HUDSON.  GRISWOLD. 
LOWELL.  WHIPPLE.  TICKNOR.  WALKER.  WAYLAND.  JAMES.  EMERSON. 
Transcendentalists.  MADAME  OSSOLI.  Emerson's  Ess:iys.  ORVILLE  DEWEY. 
Humorous  Writers.  Belles  Lettres.  TUDOR.  Wnvr.  SANDS.  FAY.  WALSH. 
MITCHEIX.  KIMBALL.  American  Travellers.  Causes  of  their  Suc< 
Writers.  Fiction.  CHARLES  BROCKDEN  BROWN.  His  Novels.  JAMES  FENI- 
HORE  COOPEB.  His  Novels — their  Popularity  and  Characteristics.  NATHANIEL 
HAWTHORNE.  His  Works  and  Genius.  Other  American  Writers  of  Fiction. 

rpHE  colloquial  and  observant  character  given  to  English  litera- 
ture  by  the  wits,  politicians,  and  essayists  of  Queen  Anne's 
time,  the  social  and  agreeable  phase  which  the  art  of  writing  ex- 
hibited in  the  form  of  the  Spectator,  Guardian,  Tatler,  and  other 
popular  works  of  the  kind,  naturally  found  imitators  in  the  Ameri- 
can colonies.  The  earliest  indication  of  a  taste  for  belles  lettres  is 
the  republication,  in  the  newspapers  of  New  England,  of  some  of 
the  fresh  lucubrations  of  Steele  and  Addison.  The  Lay  Preacher, 
by  Joseph  Dennie  (1768-1812)  (  ),  was  the  first  successful  imita- 
tion of  this  fashionable  species  of  literature :  more  characteristic, 
however,  of  the  sound  common  sense  and  utilitarian  instincts  of  the 
people,  were  the  Essays  of  Benjamin  Franklin  (1706-1790)  (13), 
commenced  in  his  brother's  journal,  then  newly  established  at 
Boston.  Taste  for  the  amenities  of  intellectual  life,  however,  at 
this  period,  was  chiefly  gratified  by  recourse  to  the  emanations  of 
the  British  press;  and  it  is  some  years  after  that  we  perceive 
signs  of  that  native  impulse  in  this  sphere  which  proved  the  germ 
of  American  literature.  "  If  we  are  not  mistaken  in  the  signs 
of  the  times,"  says  Buckminster  (in  an  oration  delivered  at  Cam- 
bridge, and  published  in  the  Anthology,  a  Boston  magazine,  whirl), 
with  the  Port  F^H-o,  issued  at  Philadelphia,  were  the  first  literary 


WASHINGTON     IRVING.  371 

journals  of  high  aims  in  America),  "the  genius  of  our  literature  be- 
gins to  show  symptoms  of  vigor,  and  to  meditate  a  bolder  flight. 
The  spirit  of  criticism  begins  to  plume  itself,  and  education,  as 
it  assumes  a  more  learned  form,  will  take  a  higher  aim.  If  we  are 
not  misled  by  our  hopes,  the  dream  of  ignorance  is  at  least  broken, 
and  there  are  signs  that  the  period  is  approaching  when  we  may 
say  of  our  country.  THUS  jam  rcgnat  Apollo."1  This  prophecy  had 
received  some  confirmation  in  the  grace  and  local  observation 
manifest  in  a  series  of  letters  which  appeared  in  the  New  York 
Chronicle,  signed  Jonathan  Oldstyle,  Gent. — the  first  productions  of 
Washington  Irving  (1783-1859)  (17§),  the  Goldsmith  of  America, 
who  was  born  in  New  York,  April  6,  1783.  In  his  early  manhood 
symptoms  of  alarming  disease  induced  a  voyage  to  Europe.  He 
returned  to  the  Island  of  Manhattan,  the  scene  of  his  boyish  ram- 
bles and  youthful  reveries,  with  a  mind  expanded  by  new  scenes, 
and  his  natural  love  of  travel  and  elegant  literature  deepened. 
Although  ostensibly  a  law  student  in  the  office  of  Judge  Hoffman, 
his  time  was  devoted  to  social  intercourse  with  his  kindred,  who 
were  established  in  business  in  New  York,  and  a  few  genial  com- 
panions, to  meditative  loiterings  in  the  vicinity  of  the  picturesque 
river  so  dear  to  his  heart,  and  to  writing  magazine  papers.  The 
happy  idea  of  a  humorous  description  of  his  native  town,  under  the 
old  Dutch  governors,  was  no  sooner  conceived  than  executed  with 
inimitable  wit  and  originality.  Not  then  contemplating  the  pro- 
fession of  letters,  he  did  not  take  advantage  of  the  remarkable  suc- 
cess that  attended  this  work,  of  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  thus  speaks 
in  one  of  his  letters  to  an  American  friend :  "  I  beg  you  to  accept 
my  best  thanks  for  the  uncommon  degree  of  entertainment  which  I 
have  received  from  the  most  excellently  jocose  history  of  New  York. 
I  am  sensible  that  as  a  stranger  to  American  parties  and  politics,  I 
must  lose  much  of  the  concealed  satire  of  the  piece ;  but  I  must 
own  that,  looking  at  the  simple  and  obvious  meaning  only,  I  have 
never  read  anything  so  closely  resembling  the  style  of  Dean  Swift 
as  the  annals  of  Diedrich  Knickerbocker.  I  have  been  employed 
these  few  evenings  in  reading  them  aloud  to  Mrs.  S.  and  two  ladies 
Avho  are  our  guests,  and  our  sides  have  been  absolutely  sore  with 
laughing.  I  think,  too,  there  are  passages  which  indicate  that  the 
author  possesses  power  of  a  different  kind,  and  has  some  touches 
which  remind  me  much  of  Sterne."  Salmagundi,  which  Mr.  Irving 


372  WASHINGTON     IRVING. 

had  previously  undertaken,  in  conjunction  -with  Paulding,  proved 
a  hit,  and  established  the  fame  of  its  authors  ;  it  was  in  form  and 
method  of  publication  imitated  from  the  Spectator,  but  in  details, 
spirit,  and  aim,  so  exquisitely  adapted  to  the  latitude  of  New  York, 
that  its  appearance  was  hailed  with  a  delight  hitherto  unknown ; 
it  was,  in  fact,  a  complete  triumph  of  local  genius.  From  these 
pursuits,  the  author  turned  to  commercial  toil,  in  connection  with 
which  he  embarked  for  England  in  1815 :  and  while  there,  a  re- 
verse of  fortune  led  to  his  resuming  the  pen  as  a  means  of  subsis- 
tence. In  his  next  work,  the  Sketch-Boole,  Sir  Walter's  opinion  of 
his  pathetic  vein  was  fully  realized ;  The  Wife,  the  Pride  of  the 
Village,  and  The  Broken  Heart,  at  once  took  their  places  as  gems  of 
English  sentiment  and  description.  Nor  were  the  associations  of 
home  inoperative;  and  the/Legend  of  Sleepy:  HoUowjftrst  gave  a 
'  local  habitation,"  in  our  fresh  land,  to  native  fancy.  His  impres- 
sions of  domestic  life  in  Great  Britain  were  soon  after  given  to  the 
public  \-a/Bracebridge  Halljand  some  of  his  continental  experiences 
embodied1  in  the  Tales  of  a  Traveller.  Soon  after,  Mr.  Irving  visited 
Spain  to  write  the  Life  of  Columbus,  to  which  we  have  before  allu- 
ded. His  sojourn  at  the  Alhambra,  and  at  Abbotsford  and  New- 
stead  Abbey,  are  the  subjects  of  other  graceful  and  charming  vol- 
umes ;  while  Astoria,  or  Anecdotes  of  an  Enterprise  beyond  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  the  Life  of  Mohammed,  proved  solid  as  well  as  ele- 
gant contributions  to  our  standard  literature ;  and  the  Life  of 
Washington,  a  standard  national  biography. 

The  Tour  on  the  Prairies  appeared  in  1836.  It  is  an  unpretending 
account,  comprehending  a  period  of  about  four  weeks,  of  travelling 
and  hunting  excursions  upon  the  vast  western  plains.  The  local  fea- 
tures of  this  interesting  region  have  been  displayed  to  us  in  several 
works  of  fiction,  of  which  it  has  formed  the  scene;  and  more  for- 
mal illustrations  of  the  extensive  domain  denominated  The  West, 
and  its  denizens,  have  been  repeatedly  presented  to  the  public. 
But  in  this  volume  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  and  attractive 
portions  of  the  great  subject  is  discussed,  not  as  the  subsidiary  part 
of  a  romantic  story,  nor  yet  in  the  desultory  style  of  epistolary 
composition,  but  in  the  deliberate,  connected  form  of  a  retrospec- 
tive narration.  When  we  say  that  the  Tour  on  the  Prairies  is  rife 
with  the  characteristics  of  its  author,  no  ordinary  eulogium  is  be- 
stowed. His  graphic  power  is  manifest  throughout.  The  bound- 


WASHINGTON     IRVING.  373 

less  prairies  stretch  out  inimitably  to  the  fancy,  as  the  eye  scans  his 
descriptions.  The  athletic  figures  of  the  riflemen,  the  gayly  arrayed 
Indians,  the  heavy  buffalo,  and  the  graceful  deer,  pass  in  strong 
relief  and  startling  contrast  before  us.  We  are  stirred  by  the  bustle 
of  the  camp  at  dawn,  and  soothed  by  its  quiet  or  delighted  with 
its  picturesque  aspect  under  the  shadow  of  night.  The  imagina- 
tion revels  amid  the  green  oak  clumps  and  verdant  pea  vines,  the 
expanded  plains  and  the  glancing  river,  the  forest  aisles,  and  the 
silent  stars.  Nor  is  this  all.  Our  hearts  thrill  at  the  vivid  repre- 
sentations of  a  primitive  and  excursive  existence  ;  we  involuntarily 
yearn,  as  we  read,  for  the  genial  activity  and  the  perfect  exposure 
to  the  influences  of  Nature  in  all  her  free  magnificence,  of  a  wood- 
land and  adventurous  life ;  the  morning  strain  of  the  bugle,  the 
excitement  of  the  chase,  the  delicious  repast,  the  forest  gossip- 
ing, the  sweet  repose  beneath  the  canopy  of  heaven — how  inviting, 
as  depicted  by  such  a  pencil ! 

Nor  has  the  author  failed  to  invigorate  and  render  doubly  at- 
tractive these  descriptive  drawings,  with  the  peculiar  light  and 
shade  of  his  own  rich  humor,  and  the  mellow  softness  of  his  ready 
sympathy.  A  less  skilful  draughtsman  would,  perhaps,  in  the  ac- 
count of  the  preparations  for  departure,  have  spoken  of  the  hunters, 
the  fires,  and  the  steeds — but  who,  except  Geoffrey  Crayon,  as 
Irving  styled  himself,  would  have  been  so  quaintly  mindful  of  the 
little  dog,  and  the  manner  in  which  he  regarded  the  operations 
of  the  farrier  ?  How  inimitably  the  Bee  Hunt  is  portrayed !  and 
what  have  we  of  the  kind  so  racy  as  the  account  of  the  Republic 
of  Prairie  Dogs,  unless  it  be  that  of  the  Rookery  in  Bracebridge  Hall  f 
What  expressive  portraits  are  the  delineations  of  our  rover's  com- 
panions !  How  consistently  drawn  throughout,  and  in  what  fine 
contrast,  are  the  reserved  and  saturnine  Beatte,  and  the  vain-glorious, 
sprightly,  and  versatile  Tonish  !  A  golden  vein  of  vivacious,  yet 
chaste  comparison,  well-managed  wit,  a  wholesome  and  pleasing 
sprinkling  of  moral  comment — intertwine  and  vivify  the  main  nar- 
rative. Something,  too,  of  that  fine  pathos  which  enriches  his 
earlier  productions,  enhances  the  value  of  the  present.  He  tells 
us,  indeed,  with  commendable  honesty,  of  his  new  appetite  for  de- 
struction, which  the  game  of  the  prairie  excited ;  but  we  cannot 
fear  for  the  tenderness  of  a  heart  that  sympathizes  so  readily  with 
suffering,  and  yields  so  gracefully  to  kindly  impulses.  He  gazes 


374  WASHINGTON     IRVING. 

upon  the  noble  courser  of  the  wilds,  and  wishes  that  his  freedom 
may  be  perpetuated ;  he  recognizes  the  touching  instinct  which 
leads  the  wounded  elk  to  turn  aside  and  die  in  retiracy  ;  he  recip- 
rocates the  attachment  of  the  beast  which  sustains  him,  and,  more 
than  all,  can  minister  even  to  the  foibles  of  a  fellow-being  rather 
than  mar  the  transient  reign  of  human  pleasure. 

Washington  Irving's  last  days  were  passed  at  his  congenial 
home,  "  Sunnyside,"  on  the  banks  of  his  favorite  river,  the  Hudson. 
To  the. revised  edition  of  his  works  he  added  many  Spanish  legends, 
home  sketches,  and  his  elaborate  biography  of  Washington.  After 
so  many  years  passed  abroad,  and  his  residence  as  American  min- 
ister at  the  Court  of  Spain,  and  after  so  long  and  prosperous  a  lit- 
erary, and  so  genial  and  endeared  a  social,  career,  he  died,  at  the  age 
of  seventy-six,  surrounded  by  his  kindred,  to  whom  he  was  the  life- 
long benefactor,  crowned  with  honorable  fame  and  with  the  affec- 
tion of  his  countrymen. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Irving,  at  one  period  of  his  life, 
seriously  proposed  to  himself  the  profession  of  an  artist.  The  idea 
was  a  legitimate  result  of  his  intellectual  constitution ;  and  although 
he  denied  its  development  in  one  form,  in  another  it  has  fully  vin- 
dicated itself.  Many  of  his  volumes  are  a  collection  of  sketches, 
embodied  happily  in  language,  since  thereby  their  more  general 
enjoyment  is  insured,  but  susceptible  of  immediate  transfer  to  the 
canvas  of  the  painter.  These  are  like  a  fine  gallery  of  pictures, 
wherein  all  his  countrymen  delight  in  many  a  morning  lounge  and 
evening  reverie. 

Within  the  last  half  century,  a  number  of  critics,  endowed  with 
acute  perceptions  and  eloquent  expression,  as  well  as  the  requisite 
knowledge,  have  arisen  to  elucidate  the  tendencies,  define  the  traits, 
and  advocate  the  merits  of  modern  writers.  By  faithful  transla- 
tions, able  reviews,  lectures,  and  essays,  the  best  characteristics  of 
men  of  literary  genius,  schools  of  philosophy,  poetry,  and  science 
have  been  rendered  familiar  to  the  cultivated  minds  of  the  nation. 
Thus  Richard  H.  Dana  has  explored  and  interpreted,  with  a  rare 
sympathetic  intelligence,  the  old  English  drama ;  Andrews  Norton, 
the  authenticity  of  the  Gospels ;  Richard  H.  Wilde,  the  love  and 
madness  of  Tasso  ;  Alexander  H.  Everett,  the  range  of  contempo- 
rary French  and  German  literature  ;  Professor  Reed,  the  poetry  of 
Wordsworth  ;  Henry  N.  Hudson,  the  plays  of  Shakespeare ;  John 


E  M  E  B  S  O  N  .  375 

S.  Hart,  the  Faery  Queen;  Russell  Lowell,  the  older  British  poets; 
and  Edwin  P.  Whipple,  the  best  authors  of  Great  Britain  anil 
America.  Our  numerous  "  Female  Prose  Writers  "  have  also  found 
an  intelligent  and  genial  historian  and  critic  in  Professor  Hart. 

For  the  chief  critical  and  biographical  history  of  literature  in 
the  United  States,  we  are  indebted  to  E.  A.  and  George  Duyckinck's 
Cyclopedia  of  American  Literature,  two  copious  and  interesting  vol- 
umes, popular  at  home  and  useful  abroad,  giving  an  elaborate  ac- 
count of  what  has  been  done  by  American  writers  from  the  founda- 
tion of  the  country  to  the  present  hour. 

The  philosophic  acuteness,  animated  and  fluent  diction,  and 
thorough  knowledge  of  the  subjects  discussed,  render  the  critical 
essays  of  Edwin  Percy  Whipple  (born  1819)  (230)  the  most 
agreeable  reading  of  the  kind.  His  reputation  as  an  eloquent  and 
sagacious  critic  is  now  firmly  established.  Both  in  style  and 
thought  these  critical  essays  are  worthy  of  the  times  ;  bold  without 
extravagance,  refined,  yet  free  of  dilettanteism,  manly  and  philo- 
sophic in  sentiment,  and  attractive  in  manner.  The  most  elaborate 
single  work,  however,  in  the  history  of  literature,  is  George  Tick- 
nor's  (1791-1871)  History  of  Spanish  Literature  (18?),  the  result 
of  many  years'  research,  and  so  complete  and  satisfactory,  that  the 
best  European  critics  have  recognized  it  a  permanent  authority  ;  it 
is  both  authentic  and  tasteful  ;  the  translations  are  excellent,  the 
arrangement  judicious,  and  the  whole  performance  a  work  of 
genuine  scholarship.  It  supplies  a  desideratum,  and  is  an  interest- 
ing and  thorough  exposition  of  a  subject  at  once  curious,  attrac- 
tive, and  of  general  literary  utility.  James  Walker  (born  1805) 
and  Francis  Wayland  (1796-1865),  although  of  widely  diverse 
theological  opinions,  are  both  expositors  of  moral  philosophy,  to  /  ^ 
which  they  have  made  valuable  ,  contributions.  Ralph,  Waldo 
Emerson  (199),  byMr"  -certain  qu  of  diction  and  boldly" 

speculative^urn  of  mind,  has  achieved  a'  wide  popularity!  It  is, 
however,  to  a  peculiar  verbal  feciH^y  and  apn'oristic  emphasis, 
rather  than  t^^o^^u'ctiv^^nttTaTlTe  owes  the  imression 


rather  than  t^you'ctivgntt^TalTe  owes  the  impression 
he  creates.    <     cX^E^^s  V    5 


Whoever  turns  to  Emerson's  Essays,  or  to  the  writings  of 
Margaret  Fuller  Ossoli  (1810-1850)  (  ),  (whose  remarkable  ac- 
quirements, moral  courage,  and  tragic  fate,  render  her  name  prom- 
inent among  our  female  authors),  for  a  system,  a  code,  or  even  a 


o  <G  T  11  O  11  E  A  U  . 

set  of  definite  principles,  will  be  disappointed.  The  chief  good 
thus  far  achieved  by  this  class  of  thinkers  has  been  negative  ;  they 
have  emancipated  many  minds  from  the  thraldom  of  local  preju- 
dices and  prescriptive  opinion,  but  have  failed  to  reveal  any  positive 
and  satisfactory  truth  unknown  before.  Emerson  has  an  inventive 
fancy ;  he  knows  how  to  clothe  truisms  in  startling  costume ;  he 
evolves  beautiful  or  apt  figures  and  apothegms  that  strike  at  first, 
but  when  contemplated,  prove,  as  has  been  said,  usually  either  true 
and  not  new,  or  new  and  not  true.  His  volumes,  however,  are  sug- 
gestive, tersely  and  often  gracefully  written ;  they  are  thoughtful, 
observant,  and  speculative,  and  indicate  a  philosophic  taste  rather 
than  power.  As  contributions  to  American  literature,  they  have 
the  merit  of  a  spirit,  beauty,  and  reflective  tone  previously  almost 
undiscoverable  in  the  didactic  writings  of  the  country. 

During  his  life,  Henry  D.  Thoreau  (231)  was  intimately  known 
and  highly  esteemed  by  a  few  literary  neighbors  and  friends,  includ- 
ing Emerson  and  Hawthorne.  It  was  not  until  after  his  death, 
which  occurred  in  1862,  that  his  peculiar  traits  were  generally 
recognized  through  his  writings.  He  aspired  to  a  life  of  frugal 
independence  and  moral  isolation,  and  carried  out  the  desire  with 
singular  heroism  and  patience.  His  experience  as  a  hermit  on  the 
Concord  River,  his  observant  excursions  to  the  woods  of  Maine,  the 
sands  of  Cape  Cod,  and  other  native  scenes,  rarely  explored  by  such 
curious  and  loving  eyes,  have  a  remarkable  freshness  of  tone  and 
fulness  of  detail ;  while  on  themes  of  a  social  and  political  nature 
his  comments  are  those  of  a  bold  and  ardent  reformer.  Few  books 
possess  a  more  genuine  American  scope  and  flavor  than  Thoreau's. 

We  have  not  been  wanting  in  excellent  translators,  especially  of 
German  literature  ;  our  scholars  and  poets  have  admirably  used 
their  knowledge  of  the  language  in  this  regard.  The  first  experi- 
ment was  Bancroft's  translation  of  Heeren,  already  referred  to ; 
and  since  then,  some  of  the  choicest  lyrics  and  best  philosophy  of 
Germany  have  been  given  to  the  American  public  by  Professor 
Longfellow,  George  Ripley,  Charles  T.  Brooks,  R.  W.  Emerson,  and 
others. 

The  most  elaborate  piece  of  humor  in  our  literature  has  been 
already  mentioned  —  Irving's  facetious  history  of  his  native  town. 
The  sketch  entitled  The  Stout  Gentleman,  by  the  same  genial  author, 
is,  another  inimitable  attempt  in  miniature,  as  well  as  some  of  the 


BELLES-LETT  KEb.  37? 

papers  in  Salmagundi.  The  Letters  of  Jack  Downing  inay  be  consid- 
ered an  indigenous  specimen  in  this  department ;  and  also  the  Char- 
coal Sketclies  of  Joseph  C.  Neal,  the  Ollapodiana  of  Willis  G.  Clarke, 
the  Puffer  Hopkins  of  Cornelius  Matthews,  and  many  scenes  by 
Thorpe,  in  Mrs.  Kirkland's  New  Home,  and  the  Biglow  Papers  of 
J.  R.  Lowell.  The  original  aspects  of  life  in  the  West  and  South, 
as  well  as  those  of  New  England,  have  also  found  several  apt  and 
graphic  delineators ;  although  the  coarseness  of  the  subjects,  or  the 
carelessness  of  the  style,  will  seldom  allow  them  a  literary  rank. 

That  delightful  species  of  literature  which  is  neither  criticism 
nor  fiction  —  neither  oratory  nor  history  —  but"  partakes  somewhat 
of  all  these,  and  owes  its  charm  to  a  felicitous  blending  of  fact  and 
fancy,  of  sentiment  and  thought — the  belles-lettres  writing  of  our 
country,  has  gradually  increased  as  the  ornamental  has  encroached 
on  the  once  arbitrary  domain  of  the  useful.  Among  the  earliest 
specimens  were  the  Letters  of  a  British  Spy  and  the  Old  Bachelor  of 
William  Wirt,  and  Tudor's  Letters  on  New  England :  this  sphere 
was  gracefully  illustrated  by  Robert  C.  Sands  and  Theodore  S.  Fay, 
in  tale,  novelette,  and  essay ;  by  Robert  Walsh,  who  gleaned  two 
volumes  from  his  newspaper  articles  ;  by  the  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor, 
My  Farm  at  Edgewood,  and  Wet  Days  at  Edgewood,  of  Mitchell,  and 
the  contributions  of  N.  P.  Willis,  and  in  a  more  vigorous  man- 
ner in  the  St.  Leger  Papers  of  Kimball.* 

The  literature  of  no  country  is  more  rich  in  books  of  travel. 
From  Carter's  letters  from  Europe,  Dwight's  Travels  in  New  Eng- 
land, and  Lewis  and  Clark' '^Expedition  to  the  Rocky  Mounlains\to 

*  There  are  a  few  American  books  which  cannot  be  strictly  classified  under 
either  of  these  division?,  which  not  only  have  a  sterling  value,  but  a  wide  and 
established  reputation,  such  as  the  Legal  Commentaries  of  Chancellor  Kent ;  the 
Dictionary  of  Noah  Webster ;  Dr.  Rush's  Treatise  on  the  Philosophy  of  the  Human 
Voice  ;  Lectures  on  Art.  by  Washington  Allston  ;  the  Classical  Manuals  by  Profes- 
sor Anthon,  and  Rev.  P.  Bullions,  D.  D. ;  Dr.  Bowditch's  translation  of  the  Me- 
canique  Celeste  of  La  Place:  the  Ornithology  of  Wilson  and  Audubon  ;  Catlin's  and 
Schoolcraft's  works  on  the  Indians;  —  the  ethnological  contributions  of  Squier, 
Pickering's  philological  researches,  and  the  essays  on  political  economy  by  Albert 
Gallatin,  Ragnet,  Dr.  Cooper,  Tucker,  Colton,  Wayland,  Middleton,  Raymond, 
A.  II.  Everett,  Horace  Greeley,  and  Henry  C.  Carey.  Francis  Boweu  has  published 
able  lectures  on  metaphysical  subjects.  James  D.  Xourse,  of  Kentucky,  has  pub- 
lished a  clever  little  treatise,  the  Philosophy  of  History  ;  Dr.  Palfrey,  of  Massachu- 
setts, a  series  of  erudite  lectures  on  Jewish  antiquities  ;  J.  Q.  Adams  a  course  on 
rhetoric  ;  Judge  Bnell  and  Henry  Ccrtman  valuable  works  on  agriculture,  and  A.  J. 
Downing  on  rural  architecture  and  horticulture. 


378  B  n  OWN. 

the  Yucatan  of  Stephens,  and  tlie  Two  Tears  before  ihe  Mast  of 
Dana,  American  writers  have  put  forth  a  succession  of  animated, 
intelligent,  and  most  agreeable  records  of  their  explorations  in 
every  part  of  the  globe.  In  many  instances,  their  researches  have 
been  directed  to  a  special  object,  and  have  resulted  in  positive  con- 
tributions to  natural  science;  thus  Audubon's  travels  are  associ- 
ated with  his  discoveries  in  ornithology,  and  those  of  Schoolcraft 
with  his  Indian  lore.  Stephens  revealed  to  our  gaze  the  singular 
and  magnificent  ruins  of  Central  America ;  Sanderson  unfolded 
the  hygiene  of  life  in  Paris ;  Flint  guided  our  steps  through  the 
fertile  valleys  of  the  West,  and  Irving  and  Hoffman  brought  its 
scenic  wonders  home  to  the  coldest  fancy.* 

Romantic  fiction,  in  the  United  States,  took  its  rise  with  the 
publication  of  Wieland  by  Brown,  in  \  798 ;  attained  its  most  com- 
plete and  characteristic  development  in  the  long  and  brilliant 
career,  as  a  novelist,  of  James  Fenimore  Cooper  (  ),  and  was 
afterwards  represented,  in  its  artistic  excellence,  by  Nathaniel 
Hawthorne.  Charles  Brockden  Brown  (1771-1810)  was  born  in 
Philadelphia.  An  invalid  from  infancy,  he  had  the  dreamy  moods 
and  roaming  propensity  incident  to  poetical  sympathies;  after 
vainly  attempting  to  interest  his  mind  in  the  law,  he  became  an 
author,  at  a  period  and  under  circumstances  which  afford  the  best 
evidence  that  the  vocation  was  ordained  by  his  idiosyncrasy.  With 
the  encouragement  of  a  few  cultivated  friends  in  Xew  York  to  sus- 
tain him,  with  narrow  means  and  feeble  health,  he  earnestly  pur- 
sued his  lonely  career,  inspired  by  the  enthusiasm  of  genius.  His 
literary  toil  Avas  varied,  erudite,  and  indefatigable.  He  edited 

*  It  is  difficult  to  enumerate  the  works  in  this  department ;  but  among  them 
may  be  justly  commended,  either  for  graces  of  style,  effective  description,  or  inter- 
esting narrative,— and,  in  some  instance?,  for  all  these  qualities  combined,— the 
Year  in  Spain  of  Mackenzie,  the  Winter  in  the  Weft  of  C.  F.  Hoffman,  the  Oregon 
Tra\l  of  Francis  Parkman,  the  PencWings  by  the  Way  of  Willis,  the  Scenes  and 
Thoughts  in  Europe  of  George  H.  Calvert,  Longfellow's  Ovter-mer,  the  Typee  of 
Melville,  the  Views  Afoot  of  Taylcr,  Fresh  Gleanings  by  Mitchell,  Nile  Notes  by 
George  Curtis,  Squier's  Nicaragua,  and  the  writings  of  this  kind  by  Robinson, 
Lang,  Melville,  Jewett,  Spencer,  Gregg,  Townsend,  Fremont.  Lanman,  Bryant, 
Thorpe,  Kendall,  Wilson,  Webber,  Colton,  Gillespie,  Headley.  Dewey.  Kip,  Sttll- 
man,  Bigelow,  dishing,  Wise,  Warren,  Mitchell,  Cheever,  Catliu,  Norman,  Wallis, 
Shaler,  Rtischenberger,  King.  Breckenridge,  Kidder,  Brown,  Fisk,  Lyman,  the  Ex- 
ploring Expedition  by  Wilkes,  the  Dead  Sea  Expedition  by  Lynch,  and  the  voyagee 
of  Delano,  Cleveland,  and  Coggeshall. 


JAMES  F EH I  MORE  COOPER.        379 

magazines  and  annual  registers,  wrote  political  essays,  a  geography, 
and  a  treatise  on  architecture,  translated  Volney's  Travels  in  the 
United-  Stai€»,  debated  at  clubs,  journalized,  corresponded,  made 
excursions,  and  entered  ardently  into  the  quiet  duties  of  the  fire- 
side and  the  family.  He  died  at  the  close  of  his  thirty-ninth  year. 
His  character  was  singularly  gentle  and  pure ;  and  he  was  beloved, 
even  when  not  appreciated.  It  is  by  his  novels  however,  that 
Brown  achieved  renown.  They  are  remarkable  ior  intensity  and 
Bupernaturalism.  His  genius  was  eminently  psychological ;  God- 
win is  his  English  prototype.  To  the  reader  of  the  present  day 
these  writings  appear  somewhat  limited  and  sketch-like ;  but  when 
we  consider  the  period  of  their  composition,  and  the  disadvantages 
under  which  they  appeared,  they  certainly  deserve  to  be  ranked 
among  the  wonderful  productions  of  the  human  mind.  Had  his 
•works  been  as  artistically  constructed  as  they  were  profoundly  con- 
ceived and  ingeniously  executed,  they  would  have  become  standard. 
As  it  is,  we  recognize  the  rare  insight  and  keen  sensibility  of  the 
man,  acknowledge  his  power  to  "  awaken  terror  and  pity,"  and 
lament  the  want  of  high  finish  and  effective  shape  visible  in  these 
early  and  remarkable  fruits  of  native  genius. 

The  first  successful  novel  by  an  American  author  was  the/Sfoy.  I 
A  previous  work,  by  the  same  author,   entitled  Precaution,  hacr 
made  comparatively  little  impression.     It  was  strongly  tinctured 
with  an  English  flavor,  in  many  respects  imitative,  and,  as  it  after- 
wards appeared,  written  and  printed  under  circumstances  which 
gave  little  range  to  the  real  genius  of  James  Fenimore  Cooper^C 
(1789-1851)  (       ).     In  1823,  he  published  the   I  In  this 

and  the  novel  immediately  preceding  it,  a  vein  of  national  associa- 
tion was  opened,  an  original  source  of  romantic  and  picturesque 
interest  revealed,  and  an  epoch  in  our  literature  created.  What 
Cooper  had  the  bold  invention  to  undertake  he  had  the  firmness  of 
purpose  and  the  elasticity  of  spirit  to  pursue  with  unflinching  zeal. 
Indeed,  his  most  characteristic  trait  was  self-reliance.  He  com- 
menced the  arduous  career  of  an  author  in  a  new  country,  and  with 
fresh  materials :  at  first,  the  tone  of  criticism  was  somewhat  dis- 
couraging ;  but  his  appeal  had  been  to  the  popular  mind,  and  not 
to  a  literary  clique,  and  the  response  was  universal  and  sincere. 
From  this  time,  he  gave  to  the  press  a  series  of  prose  romances  con- 
ceived with  so  much  spirit  and  truth,  and  executed  with  such. 


380  JAMES     FEXIMORE     COOPER. 

fidelity  and  vital  power,  that  they  instantly  took  captive  the  reader. 
His  faculty  of  description,  and  his  sense  of  the  adventurous,  were 
the  great  sources  of  his  triumph.  Refinement  of  style,  poetic  sensi- 
bility, and  melodramatic  intensity,  were  elements  that  he  ignored  ; 
but  when  he  pictured  the  scenes  of  the  forest  and  prairie,  the  inci- 
dents of  Indian  warfare,  the  vicissitudes  of  border  life,  and  the 
phenomena  of  the  ocean  and  nautical  experience,  he  displayed  a 
familiarity  with  the  subjects,  a  keen  sympathy  with  the  characters. 
and  a  thorough  reality  in  the  delineation,  which  at  once  stamped 
him  as  a  writer  of  original  and  great  capacity.  It  is  true  that  in 
some  of  the  requisites  of  the  novelist  he  was  inferior  to  many  sub- 
sequent authors  in  the  same  department.  His  female  characters 
want  individuality  and  interest,  and  his  dialogue  is  sometimes 
forced  and  ineffective ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he  seized  with  a 
bold  grasp  the  tangible  and  characteristic  in  his  own  land,  and  not 
only  stirred  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen  with  vivid  pictures  of 
colonial,  revolutionary,  and  emigrant  life,  with  the  vast  ocean  and 
forest  for  its  scenes,  but  opened  to  the  gaze  of  Europe  phases  of 
human  existence  at  once  novel  and  exciting.  The  fisherman  of 
Norway,  the  merchant  of  Bordeaux,  the  scholar  at  Frankfort,  and 
the  countess  of  Florence,  in  a  brief  period.-  all  hung  with  delight 
over  Cooper's  daguerreotypes  of  the  New  World,  transferred  to 
their  respective  languages.  This  was  no  ordinary  triumph.  It  was 
a  rich  and  legitimate  fruit  of  American  genius  in  letters.  To  ap- 
preciate it  we  must  look  back  upon  the  period  when  the  Sgy,  the 
Pioneers,  the/ Last  of  the  _  Mohicans',  the  j Pilot,)  the  Ecd  Rover]  the 
Wept  of  the  Wish-ton-  Wish,  thefWater  Ijfitch}  and  the//Pra/£^v  were 
new  creations,  and  remember  mat  they  first  revealed  America  to 
Europe  through  a  literary  medium.  Cooper's  youth  was  passed  in 
a  manner  admirably  fitted  to  develop  his  special  talent,  and  pro- 
vide the  resources  of  his  subsequent  labors.  Born  in  Burlington, 
N.  J.,  on  the  15th  of  September,  1789,  he  was  early  removed  to  the 
borders  of  Otsego  Lake,  where  his  father,  Judge  Cooper,  erected  a 
homestead,  afterwards  inhabited  and  long  occupied  by  the  novelist. 
He  was  prepared  for  college  by  the  Rector  of  St.  Peter's  Church, 
in  Albany,  and  entered  Yale  in  1802.  Three  years  after,  having 
proved  an  excellent  classical  student,  and  having  enjoyed  the  inti- 
macy of  several  youth  afterwards  eminent  in  the  land,  he  left  New 
Haven,  and  joined  the  United  States  navy  as  a  midshipman.  After 


H  A  W  T  H  0  R  X  E  .  381 

passing  six  years  in  the  service,  he  resigned,  married,  and  soon  after 
established  himself  on  his  paternal  domain,  situated  amid  some  of 
the  finest  scenery  and  rural  attraction  of  his  native  state.  Thus 
Cooper  was  early  initiated  into  the  scenes  of  a  newly-settled  coun- 
try and  a  maritime  life,  with  the  benefit  of  academical  training  and 
the  best  social  privileges.  All  these  means  of  culture  and  develop- 
ment his  active  niind  fully  appreciated ;  his  observation  never 
slumbered,  and  its  fruits  were  industriously  garnered. 

His  nautical  and  Indian  tales  form,  perhaps,  the  most  character- 
istic portion  of  our  literature.  The  Bravo  is  the  best  of  his  European 
novels,  and  his  Naval  History  is  valuable  and  interesting.  He  was 
one  of  the  most  industrious  of  authors ;  his  books  of  travel  and 
biographical  sketches  are  numerous,  and  possess  great  fidelity  of 
detail,  although  not  free  from  prejudice.  He  is  always  thoroughly 
American.  His  style  is  national ;  and  when  he  died  in  the  autumn 
of  1851,  a  voice  of  praise  and  regret  seemed  to  rise  all  over  the 
land,  and  a  large  and  distinguished  assembly  convened  soon  after, 
in  New  York,  to  listen  to  his  eulogy — pronounced  by  the  poet 
Bryant. 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne  (1804-1864)  (  )  was  distinguished 
for  the  finish  of  his  style  and  the  delicacy  of  his  psychological 
insight.  He  combines  the  metaphysical  talent  of  Brown  with  the 
refined  diction  of  Irving.  For  a  period  of  more  than  twenty  years 
he  contributed,  at  intervals,  to  annuals  and  magazines,  the  most  ex- 
quisite fancy  sketches  and  historical  narratives,  the  merit  of  which 
was  scarcely  recognized  by  the  public  at  large,  although  cordially 
praised  by  the  discriminating  few.  These  papers  have  been  col- 
lected under  the  title  of  Twice-told  Tales,  and  Mosses  from  an  Old 
Manse ;  and  their  grace,  wisdom  and  originality  are  now  generally 
acknowledged.  But  it  was  through  the  two  romances  entitled  the 

Scarlet  Letter  land  the/House  of  the  SevenGables  /that  Hawthorne's 

**  —  /  \    *• 

eminence  was  reached.     They  are  remarkable  at  once  for  a  highly 

finished  and  beautiful  style,  the  most  charming  artistic  skill,  and 
intense  characterization.  To  these  intrinsic  and  universal  claims 
they  add  that  of  native  scenes  and  subjects.  Imagine  such  an  an- 
atomizer  of  the  human  heart  as  Balzac,  transported  to  a  provincial 
town  of  New  England,  and  giving  to  its  houses,  streets,  and  history 
the  analytical  power  of  his  genius,  and  we  realize  the  triumph  of 
Hawthorne.  Bravely  adopting  familiar  materials,  he  has  thrown 


382  H  A  \V  T  H  0  R  X  E  . 

over  them  the  light  and  shadow  of  his  thoughtful  mind,  eliciting  a 
deep  significance  and  a  prolific  beauty  ;  if  we  may  use  the  expres- 
sion, he  is  ideally  true  to  the  real.  His  invention  is  felicitous,  his 
tone  magnetic ;  his  sphere  borders  on  the  supernatural,  and  yet  a 
chaste  expression  and  a  refined  sentiment  underlie  his  most  earnest 
utterance ;  he  is  more  suggestive  than  dramatic.  The  early  history 
of  New  England  has  found  no  such  genial  and  vivid  illustration  as 
his  pages  afford.  At  all  points  his  genius  touches  the  interests  of 
human  life,  now  overflowing  -with  a  love  of  external  nature  as  gen- 
tle as  that  of  Thomson,  now  intent  upon  the  quaint  or  characteristic 
in  life  with  a  humor  as  zestful  as  that  of  Lamb,  now  developing 
the  horrible  or  pathetic  with  something  of  John  Webster's  dramatic 
terror,  and  again  buoyant  with  a  fantasy  as  aerial  as  Shelley's  con- 
ceptions. And,  in  each  instance,  the  staple  of  charming  invention 
is  adorned  with  the  purest  graces  of  style.  Hawthorne  was  born 
in  Salem,  Massachusetts,  educated  at  Bowdoin  College,  and  after 
having  filled  an  office  in  the  Salem  custom-house,  and  the  post- 
office  of  his  native  town,  lived  a  year  on  a  community  farm.  He 
acted  as  United  States  consul  at  Liverpool  for  several  years,  and 
was  settled  in  the  pleasant  country  town  of  Concord,  Mass.  He 
died  with  the  pure  and  permanent  fame  of  genius,  having  em- 
balmed the  experience  he  enjoyed  in  Italy  and  England  in  the  ro- 
mances of  the  Marble  Faun  and  Our  Old  Home. 

There  are  many  intermediate  authors  between  the  three  already 
described  in  this  sphere  of  literature,  of  various  and  high  degrees, 
both  of  merit  and  reputation,  but  whose  traits  are  chiefly  analogous 
to  those  of  the  prominent  writers  we  have  surveyed.  Some  of 
them  have  ably  illustrated  local  themes,  others  excelled  in  scenic 
limning,  and  a  few  evinced  genius  for  characterization.  Paulding, 
for  instance,  in  Westward  Ho,  and  the  Dutchman 's  Fireside,  has 
given  admirable  pictures  of  colonial  life ;  Richard  II.  Dana,  in  the 
Idle  Man,  has  two  or  three  remarkable  psychological  tales ;  Timothy 
Flint,  James  Hall  Thomas,  and  more  recently  M'Connell,  of  Illinois, 
have  written  very  graphic  and  spirited  novels  of  western  life ; 
John  P.  Kennedy,  of  Baltimore,  has  embalmed  Virginia  life  in  the 
olden  time  in  Swallow  Barn,  and  Fay  that  of  modern  Isew  York ; 
Gilmore  Simms,  a  prolific  and  vigorous  novelist,  in  a  similar  form 
has  embodied  the  traits  of  southern  character  and  scenery ;  Hoff- 
man, the  early  history  of  his  native  state;  Dr.  Robert  Bird,  of 


HOLLA  XV).  383 

Philadelphia,  those  of  Mexico  ;  William  Ware  has  rivalled  Lock- 
hart's  classical  romance  in  his  Letters  from  Palmyra,  and  Probus  ; 
Aliston's  artist-genius  is  luminous  in  Monaldi ;  Judd  in  Margaret 
has  related  a  tragic  story  arrayed  in  the  very  best  hues  and  outlines 
of  New  England  life ;  and  Edgar  A.  Poe  (  ),  in  his  Tales  of  the 
Grotesque  and  Arabesque,  evinces  a  genius  in  which  a  love  of  the 
marvellous  and  an  intensity  of  conception  are  united  with  the 
wildest  sympathies,  as  if  the  endowments  of  Mrs.  Radcliffe  and 
Coleridge  were  partially  united  in  one  mind.  In  adventurous  and 
descriptive  narration  we  have  Melville  and  Mayo.  John  Neal 
struck  off  at  a  heat  some  half  score  of  novels  that,  at  least  ,illustrate 
a  facility  quite  remarkable;  and,  indeed,  from  the  days  of  the 
Algerine  Captive  and  the  Foresters — the  first  attempts  at  such  writing 
in  this  country — to  the  present  day,  there  has  been  no  lack  of 
native  fictions.  The  minor  specimens  which  possess  the  highest 
literary  excellence  are  by  Irving,  Willis,  and  Longfellow ;  but  their 
claims  rest  entirely  on  style  and  sentiment ;  they  are  brief  snd 
polished,  but  more  graceful  than  impressive. 

J.  G.  Holland  (  )  is  one  of  the  most  successful  of  American 
authors,  if  pecuniary  results  and  popularity  may  be  regarded  as 
the  test.  Long  engaged  in  the  editorial  charge  of  a  New  England 
daily  newspaper,  and  brought  into  intimate  contact  with  the  peo- 
ple, their  tastes  and  wants  seem  to  have  been  remarkably  appre- 
ciated by  this  prolific  literary  purveyor  thereto.  He  has  written 
novels,  poems,  lectures,  and  essays,  founded  on  or  directed  to  the 
wants  and  tendencies  of  life  and  nature  in  New  England,  and  re- 
flecting, with  great  authenticity,  the  local  peculiarities,  natura> 
phases,  and  characteristic  qualities  of  the  region  and  the  people. 


CHAPTER    III. 

FRENEAU  and  the  early  Metrical  Writers.  MUMFORD,  CLIFFTON,  ALLSTON,  PIEK- 
PONT.  DANA.  HILLHOUSE.  SPRAGUE.  PEKCIVAL.  HAXLECK.  DRAKE.  .HOFF- 
MAN. WILLIS.  LONGFELLOW.  HOLMES.  LOWELL.  BOKER.  Favorite  Single 
Poems.  Descriptive  Poetry.  STREET,  WHITTIER,  and  others.  BRAINARD. 
Song- Writers.  Other  Poets.  Female  Poets.  BRYANT. 

rT^HE  first  metrical  compositions  in  this  country,  recognized  by 
-"-  popular  spmpathy,  were  the  effusions  of  Phillip  Freneau 
(1752-1832)  (  ),  a  political  writer  befriended  by  Jefferson.  He 
wrote  many  songs  and  ballads  in  a  patriotic  and  historical  vein, 
which  attracted  and  -somewhat  reflected  the  feelings  of  his  contem- 
poraries, and  were  not  destitute  of  merit.  Their  success  was  owing, 
in  part,  to  the  immediate  interest  of  the  subjects,  and  in  part  to 
musical  versification  and  pathetic  sentiment.  One  of  his  Indian 
ballads  has  survived  the  general  neglect  to  which  more  artistic 
skill  and  deeper  significance  in  poetry  have  banished  the  mass  of 
his  verses ;  to  the  curious  in  the  metrical  writings,  however,  they 
yet  afford  a  characteristic  illustration  of  the  taste  and  spirit  of  the 
times.  The  antecedent  specimens  of  verse  in  America  were,  for  the 
most  part,  the  occasional  work  of  the  clergy,  and  are  remarkable 
chiefly  for  a  quaint  and  monotonous  strain,  grotesque  rhymed  ver- 
sions of  the  Psalms,  and  tolerable  attempts  at  descriptive  poems. 
The  writings  of  Mrs.  Bradstreet,  Governor  Bradford,  Roger  Wil- 
liams, Cotton  Mather,  and  the  witty  Dr.  Byles,  in  this  department, 
are  now  only  familiar  to  the  antiquarian.  Franklin's  friend  Ralph, 
and  Thomas  Godfrey,  of  Philadelphia,  indicate  the  dawn  of  a  more 
liberal  era,  illustrated  by  Trumbull,  Dwight,  Humphreys,  Also]), 
and  Honey  wood ;  passages  from  whose  poems  show  a  marked  im- 
provement in  diction,  a  more  refined  scholarship,  and  genuine 


MUMFORD,     CLIFFTON,     ALLSTON.  385 

sympathy  with  nature ;  but,  although  in  a  literary  point  of  view 
they  are  respectable  performances,  and,  for  the  period  aud  locality 
of  their  composition,  suggestive  of  a  rare  degree  of  taste,  there  are 
too  few  salient  points,  and  too  little  of  an  original  spirit,  to  justify 
any  claim  to  high  poetical  genius.  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
efforts  in  this  branch  of  letters,  at  the  epoch  in  question,  was  doubt- 
less William  Mumford's  (1775-1825)  translation  of  the  Iliad — a 
work  that,  when  published,  elicited  some  authentic  critical  praise. 
He  was  a  native  of  Virginia,  and  his  great  undertaking  was  finished 
only  a  short  period  before  his  death.  The  verses  which  have  the 
earliest  touch  of  true  sensibility  and  that  melody  of  rhythm  which 
seems  intuitive,  are  the  few  bequeathed  by  William  Cliffton  (1772- 
1799),  of  Philadelphia,  born  in  1772.  After  him  we  trace  the 
American  muse  in  the  patriotic  songs  of  R.  T.  Paine  (1773-1811) 
and  the  scenic  descriptions  of  Paulding,  until  she  began  a  loftier 
though  brief  flight  in  the  fanciful  poems  of  Allston. 

Washington  Allston  (1779-1843)  (  ),  a  native  of  South  Caro- 
lina, was  a  painter  by  profession,  and  his  works  overflow  with 
genius;  still  it  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  his  pen,  his 
pencil,  or  his  tongue  chiefly  made  known  that  he  was  a  prophet  of 
the  true  and  beautiful.  He  believed  not  in  any  exclusive  develop- 
ment. It  was  the  spirit  of  a  man,  and  not  his  dexterity  or  success, 
by  which  he  tested  character.  In  painting,  reading,  or  writing,  his 
mornings  were  occupied,  and  at  night  he  was  at  the  service  of  his 
friends.  Beneath  his  humble  roof,  in  his  latter  years,  there  were 
often  a  flow  of  wit,  a  community  of  mind,  and  a  generous  exercise 
of  sympathy  which  kings  might  envy.  To  the  eye  of  the  multitude 
his  life  glided  away  in  secluded  contentment,  yet  a  prevailing  idea 
was  the  star  of  his  being — the  idea  of  beauty.  For  the  high,  the 
lovely,  the  perfect,  he  strove  all  his  days.  He  sought  them  in  the 
scenes  of  nature,  in  the  masterpieces  of  literature  and  art,  in  habits 
of  life,  in  social  relations,  and  in  love.  Without  pretence,  without 
elation,  in  all  meekness,  his  youthful  enthusiasm  chastened  by  suf- 
fering, he  lived  above  the  world.  Gentleness  he  deemed  true  wis- 
dom, renunciation  of  all  the  trappings  of  life  a  duty.  He  was  calm, 
patient,  occasionally  sad,  but  for  the  most  part  happy  in  the  free 
exercise  and  guardianship  of  his  varied  powers.  His  sonnets  are 
interesting  as  records  of  personal  feeling.  They  eloquently  breathe 
sentiments  of  intelligent  admiration  or  sincere  friendship ;  whilo 


386  PIERPONT,     DANA,     HILLHOUSE. 

the  Sylphs  of  the  Season  and  other  longer  poems  show  a  great  com- 
mand of  language  and  an  exuberant  fancy. 

John  Pierpont  (1785-1866)  (  )  wrote  numerous  hymns  and 
odes  for  religious  and  national  occasions,  remarkable  for  their 
variety  of  difficult  metres,  and  for  the  felicity  both  of  the  rhythm, 
sentiment,  and  expression.  His  Airs  of  Palestine,  a  long  poem  in 
heroic  verse,  has  many  eloquent  passages;  and  several  of  his  minor 
pieces,  especially  those  entitled  (Passing  Awayyand  My  Child,  are 
striking  examples  of  effective  versification.  The  most  popular  of 
his  occasional  poems  is  The  Pilgrim  Fathers,  an  ode  written  for  the 
anniversary  of  the  landing  at  Plymouth,  and  embodying  in  truly 
musical  verse  the  sentiment  of  the  memorable  day. 

Richard  H.  Dana  (1787-  )  (  )  is  the  most  psychological 
of  American  poets.  His  Buccaneer  has  several  descriptive  passages 
of  singular  terseness  and  beauty,  although  there  is  a  certain  abrupt- 
ness in  the  metre  chosen.  The  scenery  and  phenomena  of  the 
ocean  are  evidently  familiar  to  his  observation ;  the  tragic  and 
remorseful  elements  in  humanity  exert  a  powerful  influence  over 
his  imagination ;  while  the  mysteries  and  aspirations  of  the  human 
soul  fill  and  elevate  his  mind.  The  result  is  an  introspective  tone, 
a  solemnity  of  mood  lightened  occasionally  by  touches  of  pathos  or 
beautiful  pictures.  There  is  a  compactness,  a  pointed  truth  to  the 
actual,  in  many  of  his  rhymed  pieces,  and  a  high  music  in  some  of 
his  blank  verse,  which  suggest  greater  poetical  genius  than  is 
actually  exhibited.  His  taste  evidently  inclines  to  Shakespeare. 
Milton,  and  the  old  English  dramatists,  his  deep  appreciation  of 
whom  he  has  manifested  in  the  most  subtile  and  profound  criti- 
cisms. Of  his  minor  pieces,  the  Intimations  of  Immortality  and  The 
Little  Beach-Bird  are  perhaps  the  most  characteristic  of  his  two 
phases  of  expression. 

*James  A.  Hillhouse  (1789-1841)  (  )  excelled  in  a  species 
of  poetic  literature  which  afterwards  attained  eminence  from  the 
fine  illustrations  of  Taylor,  Browning,  Home,  Talfourd,  and  other 
men  of  genius  in  England.  It  may  be  called  the  written  drama, 
and,  however  unfit  for  representation,  is  unsurpassed  for  bold, 
noble,  and  exquisite  sentiment  and  imagery.  The  name  of  Hill- 
house  is  associated  with  the  beautiful  elms  of  New  Haven,  be- 
neath whose  majestic  boughs  he  so  often  walked.  His  home 
in  the  neighborhood  of  this  rural  city  was  consecrated  by  ele- 


SPR  A  GUE. 

vated  tastes  arid  domestic  virtue.  He  there,  in  the  intervals  of 
business,  led  the  life  of  a  true  scholar ;  and  the  memorials  of  thig 
existence  are  his  poems,  Hadad,  The  Judgment,  Percy's  Masque, 
Demetria,  and  others.  In  the  two  former,  his  scriptural  erudition 
and  deep  perceptions  of  the  Jewish  character,  and  his  sense  of  re- 
ligious truth,  are  evinced  in  the  most  carefully-finished  and  nobly- 
conceived  writings.  Their  tone  is  lofty,  often  sublime;  the  lan- 
guage is  finely  chosen,  and  there  is  about  them  evidence  of  gradual 
and  patient  labor  rare  in  American  literature.  On  every  page  we 
recognize  the  Christian  scholar  and  gentleman,  the  secluded  bard, 
and  the  chivalric  student  of  the  past.  Percy's  Masque  reproduces 
the  features  of  an  era  more  impressed  with  knightly  character  than 
any  in  the  annals  of  England.  Hillhouse  moves  in  that  atmosphere 
quite  as  gracefully  as  among  the  solemn  and  venerable  traditions 
of  the  Hebrew  faith.  His  dramatic  and  other  pieces  are  the  first 
instances,  in  this  country,  of  artistic  skill  in  the  higher  and  more 
elaborate  spheres  of  poetic  writing.  He  possessed  the  scholarship, 
the  leisure,  the  dignity  of  taste,  and  the  noble  sympathy  requisite 
thus  to  "  build  the  lofty  rhyme ;  "  and  his  volumes,  though  unat- 
tractive to  the  mass  of  readers,  have  a  permanent  interest  and  value 
to  the  refined,  the  aspiring,  and  the  disciplined  mind. 

Charles  Sprague  (1791-  )  (  )  has  been  called  the  Rogers 
of  America ;  and  there  is  an  analogy  between  them  in  two  respects 
— the  careful  finish  of  their  verses,  and  their  financial  occupation. 
The  American  poet  first  attracted  notice  by  two  or  three  theatrical 
prize  addresses ;  and  his  success,  in  this  regard,  attained  its  climax 
in  a  Shakespeare  Ode  which  grouped  the  characters  of  the  great  poet 
with  an  effect  so  striking  and  happy,  and  in  a  rhythm  so  appro- 
priate and  impressive,  as  to  recall  the  best  efforts  of  Collins  and 
Dryden  united.  A  similar  composition,  more  elaborate,  is  his  ode 
delivered  on  the  second  centennial  anniversary  of  the  settlement  of 
Boston,  his  native  city.  A  few  domestic  pieces,  remarkable  for 
their  simplicity  of  expression  and  truth  of  feeling,  soon  became  en- 
deared to  a  large  circle ;  but  the  performance  which  has  rendered 
Sprague  best  known  to  the  country  as  a  poet  is  his  metrical  essay 
on  Curiosity,  delivered  in  182-  before  the  literary  societies  of  Har- 
vard University.  It  is  written  in  heroic  measure,  and  recalls  the 
couplets  of  Pope.  The  choice  of  a  theme  was  singularly  fortunate. 
He  traces  the  passion  which  "  tempted  Eve  to  sin "  through  its 


388  I'ERCIVAL,      HALLECK. 

loftiest  and  most  vulgar  manifestations ;  at  one  moment  rivalling 
Crabbe  in  the  lowliness  of  his  details,  and  at  another  Campbell  in 
the  aspiration  of  his  song.  The  serious  and  the  comic  alternate  on 
every  page.  Good  sense  is  the  basis  of  the  work;  fancy,  wit.  and 
feeling  warm  and  vivify  it ;  and  a  nervous  tone  and  finished  versifi- 
cation, as  well  as  excellent  choice  of  words,  impart  a  glow,  polish, 
and  grace  that  at  once  gratify  the  ear  and  captivate  the  mind. 

James  Gates  Percival  (1795-1856)  (  )  was  a  copious 
writer  of  verses,  some  of  which,  from  their  even  and  sweet  flow, 
their  aptness  of  epithet  and  natural  sentiment,  have  become  house- 
hold and  school  treasures ;  such  as  The  Coral  Grove,  New  England, 
and  Seneca  Lake.  His  command  both  of  language  and  metre  is  re- 
markable ;  his  acquirements  were  very  extensive  and  various,  and  his 
life  eccentric.  Perhaps  a  facile  power  of  expression  has  tended  to 
limit  his  poetic  fame,  by  inducing  a  diffuse,  careless,  and  unindivi- 
dual  method  ;  although  choice  pieces  enough  can  easily  be  gleaned 
from  his  voluminous  writings  to  constitute  a  just  and  rare  claim  to 
renown  and  sympathy. 

The  poems  of  Fitz-Greene  Halleck  (1795-1867)  (  ),  al- 
though limited  in  quantity,  are,  perhaps,  the  best  known  and  most 
cherished,  especially  in  the  latitude  of  New  York,  of  all  American 
verses.  This  is  owing,  in  no  small  degree,  to  their  spirited,  direct, 
and  intelligible  character,  the  absence  of  all  vagueness  and  mysti- 
cism, and  the  heartfelt  or  humorous  glow  of  real  inspiration ;  and 
in  a  measure,  perhaps,  it  can  be  traced  to  the  prestige  of  his  youth- 
ful fame,  when,  associated  with  his  friend  Drake,  he  used  to  charm 
the  town  with  the  admirable  local  verses  that  appeared  in  the  jour- 
nals of  the  day,  under  the  signature  of  Croaker  &  Co.  His  theory 
of  poetic  expression  is  that  of  the  most  popular  masters  of  English 
verse — manly,  clear,  vivid,  warm  with  genuine  emotion,  or  spark- 
ling with  true  wit.  The  more  recent  style  of  metrical  writing, 
suggestive  rather  than  emphatic,  undefined  and  involved,  and  bor- 
rowed mainly  from  German  idealism,  he  utterly  repudiates.  All 
his  verses  have  a  vital  meaning,  and  the  clear  ring  of  pure  metal. 
They  are  few,  but  memorable.  The  school-boy  and  the  old  Knick- 
erbocker both  know  them  by  heart.  In  his  serious  poems  he 
belongs  to  the  same  school  as  Campbell,  and  in  his  lighter  pieces 
reminds  us  of  Beppo  and  the  best  parts  of  Dun.  Juan.  Funny,  con- 
ceived in  the  latter  vein,  has  the  point  of  a  fine  local  satire  grace- 


DRAKE.  389 

fully  executed.  Burns,  and  the  lines  on  the  death  of  Drake,  have 
the  beautiful  impressiveness  of  the  highest  elegiac  verse.  IMarco 
BuuantjU  perhaps  the  best  martial  lyric  in  the  language,  Red 
Jacket  the  most  effective  Indian  portrait,  and  Twilight  an  apt  piece 
of  contemplative  verse;  -while  Alnwick  Castle  combines  his  grave 
and  gay  style  with  inimitable  art  and  admirable  effect.  As  a  versi- 
fier, he  was  an  adept  in  that  relation  of  sound  to  sense  which  em- 
balms thought  in  deathless  melody.  An  unusual  blending  of  the 
animal  and  intellectual  with  that  full  proportion  essential  to  man- 
hood, enables  him  to  utter  appeals  that  wake  responses  in  the  uni- 
versal heart.  An  almost  provoking  mixture  of  irony  and  sentiment 
is  characteristic  of  his  genius.  Born  in  Connecticut,  his  life  was 
passed  in  the  city  of  New  York,  and  occupied  in  mercantile  affairs. 
He  was  a  conservative  in  taste  and  opinions,  but  his  feelings  are 
chivalric,  and  his  sympathies  ardent  and  loyal ;  and  these,  alter- 
nating with  humor,  glow  and  sparkle  in  the  most  spirited  and  har- 
monious lyrical  compositions  of  the  American  muse. 

"  Centuries  hence,  perchance,  some  lover  of  '  The  Old  American 
Writers'  will  speculate  as  ardently  as  Monkbarns  himself  about  the 
site  of  Sleepy  Hollow.  Then  the  Hudson  will  possess  a  classic 
interest,  and  the  associations  of  genius  and  patriotism  may  furnish 
themes  to  illustrate  its  matchless  scenery.  Imagination  is  a  per- 
verse faculty.  Why  should  the  ruins  of  a  feudal  castle  add  en- 
chantment to  a  knoll  of  the  Catskills  ?  Are  not  the  Palisades  more 
ancient  than  the  aqueducts  of  the  Roman  Campagna  ?  Can  bloody 
tradition  or  superstitious  legends  really  enhance  the  picturesque 
impression  derived  from  West  Point  ?  The  heart  forever  asserts  its 
claim.  Primeval  nature  is  often  coldly  grand  in  the  view  of  one 
who  loves  and  honors  his  race;  and  the  outward  world  is  only 
brought  near  to  his  spirit  when  linked  with  human  love  and  suffer- 
ing, 01  consecrated  by  heroism  and  faith.  Yet,  if  there  ever  was  a 
stream  romantic  in  itself,  superior,  from  its  own  wild  beauty,  to  all 
extraneous  charms,  it  is  the  Hudson. 
"  It  was  where 

'  The  moon  looks  down  on  old  Cro'ncst, 
And  mellows  the  shade  on  his  shaggy  breast,'  -» 

Ur 

that   Joseph  Rodman  Drake  (1795-1820)   laid   the   scene   of  his 
poem,'  The  Culprit  Fay.     The  story  is  of  simple  construction.    The 


390  HOFFMAN,     WILLIS. 

fairies  are  called  together,  at  this  chosen  hour,  not  to  join  in  dance 
or  revel,  but  to  sit  in  judgment  on  one  of  their  number  who  has 
broken  his  vestal  vow.  Evil  sprites,  both  of  the  air  and  water, 
oppose  the  Fay  in  his  mission  of  penance.  He  is  sadly  baffled  and 
tempted,  but  at  length  conquers  all  difficulties,  and  his  triumphant 
return  is  hailed  with  '  dance  and  song,  and  lute  and  lyre.' 

"  There  are  various  tastes  as  regards  the  style  and  spirit  of  dif- 
ferent bards ;  but  no  one,  having  the  slightest  percepticn,  will  fail 
to  realize  at  once  that  the  Culprit  Fay  is  a  genuine  poem.  This  is, 
perhaps,  the  highest  of  praise.  The  mass  of  versified  compositions 
are  not  strictly  poems.  Here  and  there  only  the  purely  ideal  is 
apparent.  A  series  of  poetical  fragments  are  linked  by  rhymes  to 
other  and  larger  portions  of  commonplace  and  prosaic  ideas.  It  is 
with  the  former  as  with  moonbeams  falling  through  dense  foliage — 
they  only  checker  our  path  with  light.  '  Poetry,'  says  Campbell, 
'  should  come  to  us  in  masses  of  ore,  that  require  little  sifting.' 
The  poem  before  us  obeys  this  important  rule.  It  is  '  of  imagina- 
tion all  compact.'  It  takes  us  completely  away  from  the  dull  level 
of  ordinary  associations.  As  the  portico  of  some  beautiful  temple, 
through  it  we  are  introduced  into  a  scene  of  calm  delight,  where 
Fancy  asserts  her  joyous  supremacy,  and  wooes  us  to  forgetfulness 
of  all  outward  evil,  and  to  fresh  recognition  of  the  lovely  in 
nature,  and  the  graceful  and  gifted  in  humanity."  * 

Drake's  most  popular  poem  is  (The  American  Flag.) 

For  some  of  the  best  convivial,  amatory,  and  descriptive  poetry  of 
native  origin,  we  are  indebted  to  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman  (born  1806) 
(  ).  The  woods  and  streams,  the  feast  and  the  vigil,  are  reflected 
in  his  verse  with  a  graphic  truth  and  sentiment  that  evidence  an 
eye  for  the  picturesque,  a  sense  of  the  adventurous,  and  a  zest  for 
pleasure.  He  has  written  many  admirable  scenic  pieces  that  evince 
not  only  a  careful,  but  a  loving  observation  of  nature :  some  touches 
of  this  kind  in  the  Vigil  of  Faith  are  worthy  of  the  most  celebrated 
poets.  Many  of  his  songs,  from  their  graceful  flow  and  tender 
feeling,  are  highly  popular,  although  some  of  the  metres  are  so  like 
those  of  Moore  as  to  provoke  a  comparison.  They  are,  however, 
less  tinctured  with  artifice  ;  and  many  of  them  have  a  spontaneous 
and  natural  vitality. 

The  Scripture  pieces  of  Nathaniel  Parker  Willis,  (1806-1867), 

*  Thoughts  on  the  Poets. 


LONGFELLOW.  39i 

(        )  although  the  productions  of  his  youth,  have  an  individual 
beauty  that  renders  them  choice  and  valuable  exemplars  of  Amer- 
ican genius.     In  his  other  poems  there  is  apparent  a  sense  of  the 
beautiful  and  a  grace  of  utterance,  often  an  exquisite  imagery,  and 
rich  tone  of  feeling,  that  emphatically  announce  the  poet ;    but  in 
the  chastened  and  sweet,  as  well  as  picturesque  elaboration  of  the 
miracles  of  Christ,  and  some  of  the  incidents  recorded  in  the  Bible, 
Willis  succeeded  in  an  experiment  at  once  bold,  delicate,  and  pro- 
foundly interesting.     Melanie  is  a  narrative  in  verse,  full  of  itnag*^1- 
inative  beauty  and  expressive  music.     The  high  finish,  rare  ineta-4^ 
phors,  verbal  felicity,  and  graceful  sentiment  of  his  poems  ar^  "* 
sometimes  marred  by  a  doubtful  taste  that  seems  affectation ;  buiD) 
where  he  obeys  the  inspiration  of  nature  and  religious  seutimentp. 
the  result  is  truly  beautiful.        J^rf    /B,  Y"  fa 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow  ^born  1807)  (  *$  JQ  has  achieved^, 
an  extended  reputation  as  a  poet,  for  which  he  is  chiefly  indebted^  ' 
to  his  philological  aptitudes  and  his  refined  taste.     Trained  as  a. 
verbal  artist  by  the  discipline  of  a  poetical  translator,  he  acquired 
a  tact  and  facility  in  the  use  of  words,  which  great  natural  fluency^ 
and  extreme  fastidiousness  enabled  him  to  use  to  the  utmost  advan1""" 
tage.     His  poems  are  chiefly  meditative,  and  have  that  legendary 
significance  peculiar  to  the  German  ballad.     They  also  often  em- 
body and  illustrate  a  moral  truth.     There  is  little  or  no  evidence 
of  inspiration  in  his  verse,  as  that  term  is  used  to  suggest  the  power 
of  an  overmastering  passion ;    but  there  is  a  thoughtful,  subdued 
feeling  that  seems  to  overflow  in    quiet   beauty.     It  is,  however, 
the  manner  in  which  this  sentiment  is  expressed,  the  appositeness 
of  the  figures,  the  harmony  of  the  numbers,  and  the  inimitable 
choice  of  words  that  give  effect  to  the  composition.     He  often  re- 
minds us  of  an  excellent  mosaic  worker,  with  his  smooth  table  of 
polished  marble  indented  to  receive  the  precious  stones  that  are 
lying  at  hand,  which  he  calmly,  patiently,  and  with  exquisite  art, 
inserts  in  the  shape  of  flowers  and  fruit.     Almost  all  Longfellow's 
poems  are  gems  set  with  consummate  taste.     Hi^Evangeli/iejis  a 
beautiful  reflex  of  rural  life  and  love,  which,  from  the  charm  of  its 
pictures  and  the  gentle  harmony  of  its  sentiment,  became  popular, 
although  written  in  hexameters.    His  Skeleton  in  Armor  is  the  most 
novel  and  characteristic  of  his  shorter  poems ;  and  his  Psalm  of 
Life  smdJExcclsiorJ&i-e  the  most  familiar  and  endeared.     He  is  the 


392 


HOLMES,     LOWELL. 


rtistic,  as  Halleck  is  the  lyrical  and  Bryant  the  picturesque  and 
philosophical,  of  American  poets.         >/_  S$ 

The  most  concise,  apt,  and  effectivVpoertff  the"sdhool  of  Pope 
this  country  has  produced,  is  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  (211),  a 
Boston  physician  (born  1809).  His  best  lines  are  a  series  of  rhymed 
pictures,  witticisms,  or  sentiments,  let  off  with  the  precision  and.. 

>  ^brilliancy  of  the  scintillations  that  sometimes  illumine  the  northerrf^\ 
'horizon.     The  significant  terms,  the  perfect  construction,  and  acut&   « 
choice  of  syllables  and  emphasis,  render  some  passages  of  Holmes*^ 
absolute  models  of  versification,  especially  in  the  heroic  ineasu; 
Besides  these  artistic  merits,  his  poetry  abounds  with  fine  satire,. 

•    beautiful  delineations  of  nature,  and  amusing  caricatures  of  man- 
ners.    The  long  poems  are  metrical  essays,  more  pointed,  musical/^ 
and  judicious,  as  well  as  witty,  than  any  that  have  appeared,  of.': 
the  same  species,  since  the  .Essay  on  Nan  and   The  Dunciad. 


description  of  the  art  in  which  he  excels  is  inimitable,  and  illus- 
trates all  that  it  defines.  UistOld  Ironsides^-du  indignant  protest 
against  the  destruction  of  the  frigate  Constitution—  created  a  public 
sentiment  that  prevented  the  fulfilment  of  that  ungracious  design. 
.His  verses  on  Lending  an  Old  Punch  Bowl  are  in  the  happiest  vein 
(  f  that  form  of  writing.  About  his  occasional  pieces,  there  is  an 
i  asy  and  vigorous  tone  like  that  of  Praed  ;  and  some  of  them  are 

^  <the  liveliest  specimens  of  finished  verse  yet  written  among  us.  His 
command  of  language,  his  ready  wit,  his  concise  and  pointed  style, 
the  nervous,  bright,  and  wise  scope  of  his  muse,  now  and  then 
softened  by  a  pathetic  touch,  or  animated  by  a  living  picture,  are 
qualities  that  have  firmly  established  the  reputation  of  Dr.  Holmes 
ns  a  poet,  while  in  professional  character  and  success  he  has  been 

L    equally  recognized. 

James  R.  Lowell  (born  1819)  (  )  unites,  in  his  most  effective 
poems,  the  dreamy,  suggestive  character  of  the  transcendental  bards 
with  the  philosophic  simplicity  of  Wordsworth.  He  has  written 
clever  satires,  good  sonnets,  long  poems  with  fine  descriptive  pas- 
sages, and  some  of  the  finest  specimens  of  literary  criticism  that 
have  appeared  in  our  literature.  He  reminds  us  often  of  Tennyson, 
in  the  sentiment  and  the  construction  of  his  verse.  Imagination 
and  philanthropy  are  the  dominant  elements  in  his  writings,  some 
of  which  are  marked  by  a  graceful  flow  and  earnest  tone,  and  many 
unite  with  these  attractions  that  of  high  finish. 


B  0  K  E  K .  393 

George  Henry  Boker  (born  1824),  the  author  of  Calaynos,  Anne 
Boleyn,  and  other  dramatic  pieces,  is  a  native  and  resident  of  Phila- 
delphia. "  The  glow  of  his  images  is  chastened  by  a  noble  sim- 
plicity, keeping  them  within  the  line  of  human  sympathy  and  nat- 
ural expression.  He  has  followed  the  masters  of  dramatic  writing 
with  rare  judgment.  He  also  excels  many  gifted  poets  of  his  class 
in  a  quality  essential  to  an  acted  play — spirit.  To  the  tragic  ability 
he  unites  aptitude  for  easy,  colloquial,  and  jocose  dialogue,  such  as 
must  intervene  in  the  genuine  Shakespearean  drama,  to  give  relief 
and  additional  effect  to  high  emotion.  His  language,  also,  rises 
often  to  the  highest  point  of  energy,  pathos,  and  beauty." 

A  casual  dalliance  with  the  Muses  is  characteristic  of  our  busy 
citizens,  in  all  professions ;  some  of  these  poetical  estrays  have  a 
permanent  hold  upon  the  popular  taste  and  sympathy.  Among 
them  may  be  mentioned  Frisbie's  Castle  in  the  Air,  Norton's  Scene 
after  a  Summer  Shower,  Henry  Ware's  Address  to  the  Ursa  Major, 
Pinkney's  verses  entitled  A  Health,  Palmer's  ode  to  Light,  Poe's 
{Racen ^and  £he  Bells j  Cooke's  Florence  Vane,  Parsons's  Lines  to  a  Bust 
of  Dante,  Wilde's  My  Life  is  like  a  Summer  Rose,  Albert  G.  Greene's 
Old  Grimes.  ~Q\ii\Q^^  Nothing  to  Wearjand  Wood  worth's  [Old  Oaken 
Bucket}(  ). 

Extensive  circulation  is  seldom  to  be  hoped  for  works  which 
appeal  so  faintly  to  the  practical  spirit  of  our  times  and  people  as 
the  class  we  have  thus  cursorily  examined.  Yet,  did  space  allow, 
we  should  be  tempted  into  a  somewhat  elaborate  argument,  to  prove 
that  the  cordial  reception  of  such  books  agrees  perfectly  with  gen- 
uine utilitarianism.  •  As  a  people,  it  is  generally  conceded  that  we 
lack  nationality  of  feeling.  Narrow  reasoners  may  think  that  this 
spirit  is  best  promoted  by  absurd  sensitiveness  to  foreign  comments 
or  testy  alertness  in  regard  to  what  is  called  national  honor.  We 
incline  to  the  opinion,  founded  on  well-established  facts,  both  of 
history  and  human  nature,  that  the  best  way  to  make  an  individual 
true  to  his  political  obligations  is  to  promote  his  love  of  country ; 
and  experience  shows  that  this  is  mainly  induced  by  cherishing  high 
and  interesting  associations  in  relation  to  his  native  land.  Every 
well-recorded  act  honorable  to  the  state,  every  noble  deed  conse- 
crated by  the  effective  pen  of  the  historian,  or  illustrated  in  the 
glowing  page  of  the  novelist,  tends  wonderfully  to  such  a  result. 
Have  not  the  hearts  of  the  Scotch  nurtured  a  deeper  patriotism 


STREET. 

since  Walter  Scott  cast  into  the  furrows  of  time  his  peerless  ro- 
mances ?  No  light  part  in  this  elevated  mission  is  accorded  to  the 
poet.  Dante  and  Petrarch  have  done  much  to  render  Italy  beloved. 
Beranger  has  given  no  inadequate  expression  to  those  feelings 
which  bind  soldier,  artisan,  and  peasant  to  the  soil  of  France. 
Here  the  bard  can  draw  only  upon  brief  chronicles,  but  God  has 
arrayed  this  continent  with  a  sublime  and  characteristic  beauty, 
that  should  endear  its  mountains  and  streams  to  the  American 
heart ;  and  whoever  ably  depicts  the  natural  glory  of  the  country 
touches  a  chord  which  should  yield  responses  of  admiration  and 
loyalty.  In  this  point  of  view  alone,  then,  we  deem  the  minstrel 
who  ardently  sings  of  forest  and  sky,  river  and  highland,  as  emi- 
nently worthy  of  recognition.  This  merit  may  be  claimed  for 
Alfred  B.  Street  (born  1811),  of  Albany  (  ),  who  was  reared 
amid  the  most  picturesque  scenery  of  the  State  of  New  York. 
Street  has  an  eye  for  Nature  in  all  her  moods.  He  has  not  roamed 
the  woodlands  in  vain,  nor  have  the  changeful  seasons  passed  him 
by  without  leaving  vivid  and  lasting  impressions.  These  his  verse 
records  with  unusual  fidelity  and  genuine  emotion.  ***** 
In  a  foreign  land  his  poems  would  transport  us  at  once  to  home. 
He  is  no  second-hand  limner,  content  to  furnish  insipid  copies,  but 
draws  from  reality.  His  pictures  have  the  freshness  of  originals. 
They  are  graphic,  detailed,  never  untrue,  and  often  vigorous.  He 
is  essentially  an  American  poet.  His  range  is  limited,  and  he  has 
had  the  good  sense  not  to  wander  from  bis  sphere,  candidly  ac- 
knowledging that  the  heart  of  man  has  not  furnished  him  the  food 
for  meditation  which  inspires  a  higher  class  of  poets.  He  is  em- 
phatically an  observer.  In  England  we  notice  that  these  qualities 
have  been  recognized.  His  Lost  Hunter  has  been  finely  illustrated 
there,  thus  affording  the  best  evidence  of  the  picturesque  fertility 
of  his  muse.  Many  of  his  pieces  also  glow  with  patriotism.  His 
Gray  Forest  Easjle  is  a  noble  lyric,  full  of  spirit ;  his  Fwest  Scenes 
are  minutely,  and  at  the  same  time  elaborately,  true.  *  *  *  .* 
Delicacy,  sentiment,  ideal  enthusiasm,  are  not  his  by  nature ;  but 
clear,  bold,  genial  insight  and  feeling  he  possesses  in  a  rare  degree, 
and  his  poems  worthily  depict  the  phases  of  Nature,  as  she  displays 
herself  in  this  land,  in  all  her  picturesque  wildness,  solemn  mag- 
nificence, and  serene  beauty. 

To  the  descriptive  talent  as  related  to  natural  scenery,  which  we 


395 

-stajt/  A^j 

have  noteif  as  trreTgift  (3f  our  oest  "poets,  j'ohn  Greenleaf  Whittier 
(born  1808)  (        )  unites  the  enthusiasm  of  the  reformer  and  the 
sympathies  of  the  patriot.     There  are  a  prophetic  anathema  and  a 
bard-like  invocation  in  some  of  his  pieces.     He  is  a  true  son  o 
New  England,  and,  beneath    the   calm,   fraternal   bearing  of  th 
Quaker,  nurses  the  imaginative  ardor  of  a  devotee  both  of  natur 
and  humanity.     The  early  promise  of  Brainard  (        ),  his  fine  poeti 
observation  and  sensibility,  enshrined  in  several  pleasing  lyrics,  a 
his  premature  death,  are  analogous  to  the  career  of  Henry  Kirk 
White.     John  Neal  has  written  some  odes,  carelessly  put  together 
but  having  memorable  passages.     Emerson  has  published  a 
volume  of  quaint  rhymes ;  Croswell  wrote  several  short  but  inip 
sive  church  poems,  in  which  he  has  been  ably  followed  by 
Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe ;  Bayard  Taylor's  California  ballads  are  ful 
of  truth,  spirit,  and  melody,  and  his  u  Picture  of  St.  John  "  is 
melodious  and  graphic  metrical  tale ;    Albert  Pike,  of  Arkan 
is  the  author  of  a  series  of  hymns  to  the  gods,  after  the  manner  of 
Keats,  which  have  justly  commanded  favorable  notice  ;   Willis  G. 
Clarke  is  remembered  for  his  few  but  touching  and  finished  elegiac 
pieces.     Epes  Sargent's  Poems  of  the  Sea  are  worthy  of  the  subject, 
both  in  sentiment  and  style.     F.  S.  .Key,  of  Baltimore,  was  the 
author  of  the  f Star- Spangled  Bannerjand   Judge   Hopkiuson,  of 
Philadelphia,  wfotvHdil,  Columbia  j  George  P.  Morris  (        ),  among 
the  honored  contributors  to  American  poetry,  whose  pieces  are 
familiar,  is  recognized  as  the  song-writer  of  America. 

A  large  number  of  graceful  versifiers,  and  a  few  writers  of  poet- 
ical genius,  have  arisen  among  the  women  of  America.  Southey 
has  recorded,  in  no  measured  terms,  his  estimation  of  Mrs.  Brooks, 
the  author  of  Zophiel.  The  sentiment  and  melody  of  Mrs.  Wei  by 
have  made  the  name  of  Amelia  precious  in  the  west.  Mrs.  Sigour- 
ney's  metrical  writings  are  cherished  by  a  large  portion  of  the  New 
England  religious  public  (  ).  The  Sinless  Child  of  Mrs.  Oakes 
Smith  is  a  melodious  and  imaginative  poem,  with  many  verses  of 
graphic  and  metaphysical  significance.  The  occasional  pieces  of 
Mrs.  Embury,  Mrs.  Whitman,  Mrs.  Hewitt,  and  Miss  Lynch  are 
thoughtful,  earnest,  and  artistic.  The  facility,  playfulness,  and  in- 
genious conception  of  Mrs.  Osgood  (  )  rendered  her  a  truly  gifted 
improwuatrice.  Miss  Gould  has  written  several  pretty  fanciful 
little  poems,  and  Miss  Sara  Clark's  Ariadne  is  worthy  of  Mrs.  Nor- 


396  BRYAN  T  . 

ton.  The  Davidsons  are  instances  of  rare  though  melancholy  pre- 
cocity in  the  art.  The  moral  purity,  love  of  nature,  domestic  affec- 
tion, and  graceful  expression  which  characterize  the  writings  of  our 
female  poets,  are  remarkable.  Many  of  them  enjoy  a  high  local 
reputation,  and  their  effusions  are  quoted  with  zeal  at  the  fireside. 
Taste  rather  than  profound  sympathies,  sentiment  rather  than  pas- 
sion, and  fancy  more  than  imagination,  are  evident  in  these  spon- 
taneous, gentle,  and  often  picturesque  poems.  They  usually  are 
more  creditable  to  the  refinement  and  pure  feelings,  than  to  the 
creative  power  or  original  style  of  the  authors.  Among  a  reading 
people,  however,  like  our  own,  these  beautiful  native  flowers,  scat- 
tered by  loving  hands,  are  sweet  mementos  and  tokens  of  ideal  cul- 
ture and  gentle  enthusiasm,  in  delightful  contrast  to  the  prevailing 
hardihood  and  materialism  of  character.*  ///t  'v  A  ,  , 

In  the  felicitous  use  of  native  materials,  asVelt  aSmrnereligi- 
ous  sentiment  and  love  of  freedom,  united  with  skill  as  an  artist, 
William  Cullen  Bryant  (born  1794)  ps  recognized  as  the  best  repre- 
sentative of  American  poetry!  and  we  cannot  better  close  this  brief 
survey  of  native  literature  than  by  an  examination  of  his  poems; 
in  which  the  traits  of  our  scenery,  the  spirit  of  our  institutions,  and 
the  devotional  faith  that  proved  the  conservative  element  in  our 
history,  are  all  consecrated  by  poetic  art.  /  %  7  %  > 

The  first  thought  which  suggests  itself  in  regard  to  Bryant  is 
his  respect  for  the  art  which  he  has  so  nobly  illustrated.  This  is 
not  less  commendable  than  rare.  To  subserve  the  objects  of  party, 
to  acquire  a  reputation  upon  which  office  may  be  sought,  and  to 
gratify  personal  ambition,  the  American  poet  is  often  tempted  to 
sacrifice  his  true  fame  and  the  dignity  of  Art  to  the  demands  of 
Occasion.  To  this  weakness  Bryant  has  been  almost  invariably 
superior.  He  has  preserved  the  elevation  which  he  so  early  ac- 
quired. He  has  been  loyal  to  the  Muses.  At  their  shrine  his  min- 
istry seems  ever  free  and  sacred,  wholly  apart  from  the  ordinary 
associations  of  life.  With  a  pure  heart  and  a  lofty  purpose  has  he 
hymned  the  glory  of  Xature  and  the  praise  of  Freedom.  To  this 
we  cannot  but,  in  a  great  degree,  ascribe  the  serene  beauty  of  his 

*  For  a  very  complete  and  interesting  survey  of  this  class  of  writiiiLrs.  the  reader 
is  referred  to  Griswold's  Female  Poets  of  America.  His  list  comprises  nearly  a 
hundred  names  ;  the  biographical  skc'tdie-  ;it!brd  a  good  insight  into  the  domestic! 
culture  of  the  nation  ;  and  the  specimens  are  various,  and  often  beautiful. 


.    / 


B  II  Y  ANT.  39? 

verse.  The  mists  of  worldly  motives  dim  tlie  clearest  vision,  and 
the  sweetest  voice  falters  amid  the  strife  of  passion.  As  the  patri- 
arch went  forth  alone  to  muse  at  eventide,  the  reveries  of  genius 
have  been  to  Bryant  holy  and  private  seasons.  They  are  as  un- 
stained by  the  passing  clouds  of  this  troubled  existence  as  the  skies 
of  his  own  "  Prairies"  by  village  smoke. 

Here,  where  Nature  is  so  magnificent,  and  civil  institutions  sc 
fresh,  where  the  experiment  of  republicanism  is  going  on,  and  each 
individual  must  think,  if  he  do  not  work,  Poetry,  to  illustrate  the 
age  and  reach  its  sympathies,  should  be  thoughtful  and  vigorous. 
It  should  minister  to  no  weak  sentiment,  but  foster  high,  manly, 
and  serious  views.  It  should  identify  itself  with  the  domestic 
affections,  and  tend  to  solemnize  rather  than  merely  adorn,  exist- 
ence. Such  are  the  natural  echoes  of  American  life,  and  they  char- 
acterize the  poetry  of  Bryant. 

Bryant's  love  of  Nature  gives  the  prevailing  spirit  to  his  poetry. 
The  feeling  with  him  seems  quite  instinctive.  It  is  not  sustained 
by  a  metaphysical  theory,  as  in  the  case  of  Wordsworth,  while  it  is 
imbued  with  more  depth  of  pathos  than  is  often  discernible  in 
Thomson.  The  feeling  with  which  he  looks  upon  the  wonders  of 
Creation  is  remarkably  appropriate  to  the  scenery  of  the  New 
World.  His  poems  convey,  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  the  actual 
impression  which  is  awakened  by  our  lakes,  mountains,  and  forests. 
We  esteem  it  one  of  Bryant's  great  merits  that  he  has  not  only  faith- 
fully pictured  the  beauties,  but  caught  the  very  spirit,  of  our 
scenery.  His  best  poems  have  an  anthem-like  cadence,  which 
accords  with  the  vast  scenes  they  celebrate.  He  approaches  the 
mighty  forests,  whose  shadowy  haunts  only  the  footstep  of  the  In- 
dian has  penetrated,  deeply  conscious  of  its  virgin  grandeur.  His 
harp  is  strung  in  harmony  with  the  wild  moan  of  the  ancient 
boughs.  Every  moss-covered  trunk  breathes  to  him  of  the  mys- 
teries of  Time,  and  each  wild  flower  which  lifts  its  pale  buds  above 
the  brown  and  withered  leaves,  whispers  some  thought  of  gentle- 
ness. We  feel,  when  musing  with  him  amid  the  solitary  woods,  as 
if  blessed  with  a  companion  peculiarly  fitted  to  interpret  their 
teachings.  *  *  *  * 

The  kind  of  interest  with  which  Bryant  regards  Nature  is  com- 
mon to  the  majority  of  minds  in  which  a  love  of  beauty  is  blended 
with  reverence.  This  in  some  measure  accounts  for  his  popularity; 


398  BRYANT. 

He  is  the  priest  of  a  universal  religion,  and  clothes  in  appropriate 
and  harmonious  language  sentiments  •warmly  felt  and  cherished. 
Pie  requires  no  interpreter.  There  is  nothing  eccentric  in  his  vision 
Like  all  human  beings,  the  burden  of  daily  toil  sometimes  weighs 
heavy  on  his  soul;  the  noisy  activity  of  common  life  becomes  hope- 
less ;  scenes  of  inhumanity,  error,  and  suffering  grow  oppressive, 
or  more  personal  causes  of  despondency  make  "  the  grasshopper  a 
burden."  Then  he  turns  to  the  quietude  and  beauty  of  Xature  for 
refreshment.  There  he  loves  to  read  the  fresh  tokens  of  creative 
oeneficence.  The  scented  air  of  the  meadows  cools  his  fevered 
brow.  Vast  prospects  expand  his  thoughts  beyond  the  narrow 
circle  of  worldly  anxieties.  The  limpid  stream,  upon  whose  banks 
he  wandered  in  childhood,  reflects  each  fleecy  cloud,  and  soothes 
his  heart  as  the  emblem  of  eternal  peace.  Thus  faith  is  revived ; 
the  soul  acquires  renewed  vitality,  and  the  spirit  of  love  is  kindled 
again  at  the  altar  of  God.  Such  views  of  Nature  are  perfectly 
accordant  with  the  better  impulses  of  the  heart.  There  is  nothing 
in  them  strained,  unintelligible,  or  morbid.  They  are  more  or  less 
familiar  to  all,  and  are  as  healthful  overflowings  of  our  nature  as 
the  prayer  of  repentance  or  the  song  of  thanksgiving.  They  dis- 
tinguish the  poetry  of  Bryant,  and  form  one  of  its  dominant 
charms.  *  *  *  * 

Bryant  is  eminently  a  contemplative  poet.  His  thoughts  are 
not  less  impressive  than  his  imagery.  Sentiment,  except  that 
which  springs  from  benevolence  and  veneration,  seldom  lends  a 
glow  to  his  pages.  Indeed,  there  is  a  remarkable  absence  of  those 
spontaneous  bursts  of  tenderness  and  passion  which  constitute  the 
very  essence  of  a  large  portion  of  Lowell's  verse.  He  has  none  of 
the  spirit  of  Campbell,  or  the  narrative  sprightliness  of  Scott. 
The  few  humorous  attempts  he  has  published  are  unworthy  of  his 
genius.  Love  is  merely  recognized  in  his  poems ;  it  rarely  forms 
the  staple  of  any  composition.  His  strength  obviously  consists  in 
description  and  philosophy.  It  is  one  advantage  of  this  species  of 
poetry  that  it  survives  youth,  and  is,  by  nature,  progressive. 
Bryant's  recent  poems  are  fully  equal,  if  not  superior,  to  any  he 
has  written.  With  his  inimitable  pictures  there  is  ever  blended 
high  speculation,  or  a  reflective  strain  of  moral  command.  Some 
elevating  inference  or  cheering  truth  is  elicited  from  every  scene 
consecrated  by  his  muse.  A  noble  simplicity  of  language,  com- 


B  R  Y  A  X  T  .  399 

hined  with  these  traits,  often  loads  to  the  most  genuine  sublimity 
of  expression. 

In  Th«  Fountain,  after  a  descriptive  sketch  that  brings  its  limpid 
flow  and  flowery  banks  almost  palpably  before  us,  how  exquisite  is 
the  chronicle  that  follows !  Guided  by  the  poet,  we  behold  that 
gushing  stream,  ages  past,  in  the  solitude  of  the  old  woods,  when 
canopied  by  the  hickory  and  plane,  the  humming-bird  playing 
amid  its  spray,  and  visited  only  by  the  wolf,  who  comes  to  "  lap 
its  waters,"  the  deer  who  leaves  her  "  delicate  footprint "  on  its 
marge,  and  the  "  slow-paced  bear  that  stopped  and  drank,  and 
leaped  across."  Then  the  savage  war-cry  drowns  its  murmur,  and 
the  wounded  foeman  creeps  slowly  to  its  brink  to  ''  slake  his  death- 
thirst."  Ere  long  a  hunter's  lodge  is  built,  "  with  poles  and 
boughs,  beside  the  crystal  well,"  and  at  last  the  lonely  place  is 
surrounded  with  the  tokens  of  civilization.  Thus  the  minstrel, 

even 

'•  From  the  gushing  of  a  simple  fount, 
Has  reasoned  to  the  mighty  universe." 

The  very  rhythm  of  the  stanzas  To  a  Waterfowl  gives  the  impres- 
sion of  its  flight.  Like  the  bird's  sweeping  wing,  they  float  with  a 
calm  and  majestic  cadence  to  the  ear.  We  see  that  solitary  wan- 
derer of  the  "cold  thin  atmosphere;"  we  watch,  almost  with  awe, 
its  serene  course,  until  "  the  abyss  of  heaven  has  swallowed  up  its 
form,"  and  then  gratefully  echo  the  bard's  consoling  inference. 

"  Eternal  Love  doth  keep 
In  his  complacent  arms  the  earth,  the  air,  the  deep." 

To  set  forth,  in  strains  the  most  attractive  and  lofty,  this  glorious 
sentiment,  is  the  constant  aim  of  his  poetry.  Gifted  must  be  the 
man  who  is  loyal  to  so  high  a  vocation.  From  the  din  of  outward 
activity,  the  vain  turmoil  of  mechanical  life,  it  is  delightful  and 
ennobling  to  turn  to  a  true  poet, — one  wTho  scatters  flowers  along 
our  path,  and  lifts  our  gaze  to  the  stars, — breaking,  by  a  word,  the 
spell  of  blind  custom,  so  that  we  recognize  once  more  the  original 
glory  of  the  universe,  and  hear  again  the  latent  music  of  our  own 
souls.  This  high  service  has  Bryant  fulfilled.  It  will  identify  his 
memory  with  the  .loveliest  scenes  of  his  native  land,  and  endear  it 
to  her  children  forever. 


INDEX 

TO    THE    ENGLISH    LITERATURE. 


A. 

Addison,  Joseph,  199,  214- 
223. 

Akenside,  Mark,  268. 

Alfred,  King,  18. 

Alliteration,  16,  44,  45. 

An^lo-Norman  literature, 
22. 

Anglo-Saxon,  14-18;  fu- 
sion with  the  Norman, 
11,  12;  prose,  the  ver- 
nacular, 18-20. 

Anglo-Saxons,  7,  8. 

Arbuthnot,  Dr.  John,  234. 

Arnold,  Dr.  Thomas,  3iO. 

Arthur,  King,  24,  67. 

Ascham,  Roger.  58. 

Asser,  Bishop,  20. 

Augustan  Age,  The,  197. 

Austen,  Miss,  33:7. 

B. 

Bacon,    Francis,    117-129, 

237. 

Bale,  John,  76. 
Ballads',  54-56,  288. 
Barclay,  Alexander,  52. 
Barrow,    Isaac,    137,    191, 

192. 

Baxter,  Richard,  140. 
Beattie,  James,  2-!>5. 
Beaumont,  Francis,  107. 
Bede,  19. 

Bell,  Currer.    See  Bronte. 
Bentham,  Jeremy,  349. 
Bentley.  Richard,  22o,  227. 
Beowulf,  Lay  of,  14-16. 
Berkeley,  Bishop,  235. 
Berners,  Lord.  57. 
Bihle.  English  Translation 

of,  99. 
Blaekstone,  Sir   William, 

263. 
Blackwood's       Magazine, 

346 

Blair,  Robert.  265. 
Blind  Harry,  53. 
Bolingbroke,       Viscount, 

235. 

BoswoJl.  James,  258. 
Boyle  and  Bentley  Contro- 
versy, 226,  227;    Robert 

Boyle,  195. 


Bront6,  Charlotte,  332. 
Browne.  Thomas,  137. 
Browning,  Mrs.,  315-317. 
Brut  d'Augleterre,  22. 
Bull,  George,  263. 
Bulwer-Lytton,  Sir  E.,  336, 

337. 

Bunyan,  John,  162-165. 
Burbadge,  James,  78. 
Burke,  Edmund,  261,  262. 
Burnet,  Gilbert,  196. 
Burnet,  Thomas,  195. 
Burney,  Frances,  330. 
Bums,  Robert,  281-285. 
Butler,  Bishop,  264. 
Butler,  Samuel,  160,  162. 
Byron,  Lord,  299-306. 


C. 

Czdmon,  monk  of  Whitby, 

16,  17. 
Campbell,  Dr.  George,  264, 

Thomas,  313. 
Canterbury  Tales,  the,  34- 

41. 

Carew,  Thomas,  136. 
C'axton,  51. 
Cecil,  William,  Lord  Bur- 

leigh,  120. 
Celts.  5.  6. 
Chapman,  George,  72,  80, 

83,  108. 

Charles  II.,  159. 
Chatterton,  Thomas,  276. 
Chaucer.  Geoffrey.  26-42,71. 
Chettle,  Henry,  89. 
Chevy  Chase,  55. 
Chillingworth,  Wm.,  137. 
Clarendon,    Earl    of,    168, 

169. 
Colorid<re,  Samuel  Taylor, 

322-325. 

Collins,  Wiiliam.  266. 
Collier,  Jeremy,  183. 
Conzreve,  William,  180, 

181. 

Coverdale,  Miles,  59. 
Cowley.  Abraham.  132. 
Cowper,  William,  273-275. 
Crabbe,  George,  278,  279. 
Crashaw,  Richard,  135. 
Cndworth,  Ralph,  170. 


D. 

Danjel,  Samuel,  70. 
Danish  invasion,  8. 
Davenant,  Sir  Win.,  133. 
Defoe,  Dauiel.  238, 
Dekker,  Thomas,  108,  114 
Denham,  Sir  John,  134. 
De  Quincey,  Thomas.  348. 
Dickeus,  Charles,  335,  336. 
Donne,  John,  130. 
Douglas,  Gawin,  53. 
Drama,  English,  its  orisrin, 

73-81 ;  The  corrupt,  179- 

185. 

Dray  ton,  Michael,  70,  90. 
Dryden,   ,Johu,    132,   1.1- 

178,  183. 
Dunbar,  William,  53. 

E. 

Edgeworth.  Maria.  331,332. 

Edinburgh  Review,  345. 

Eighteenth  Century,  Re- 
marks on  the,  285-287. 

Elizabethan  Age,  60-70, 
84-129. 

English  Language,  fusion 
of  its  elements,  11,  12. 

English  Literature,  divis- 
ions of,  13. 

Essex,  Earl  of,  120. 

Euphuism,  81. 

Evelyn,  John,  166, 167. 

F. 

Fabyan.  Robert,  57. 
Faery  Queen,  the,  66-69. 
Farquhar,  George,  182. 
Fieldine,  Henry;  241-243. 
Fletcher,  Giles",  71. 
Fletcher.  Phinens.  71. 
Ford,  John.  102,  110.  111. 
Froissart,  Chronicle  of, 

translated  into  English, 

57. 
Fuller,  Thomas,  138. 

G. 

Gammer  Gurton's  Needle, 

77. 
Garrick,  David,  255. 


L>  E  X    TO    ENGLISH    LITEEATUEE. 


401 


Gaskcll.  Mrs.,  332. 
Gay,  John,  199,  210. 
Gibbon,  Edward,  252,  253. 
Gifford,  William,  345. 
Godwin,  William.  330. 
Golusmith,     Oliver,    269- 

273. 

Gower,  John,  45,  46. 
Gray,  Thomas,  267,  268. 
Greene,  Matthew,  265. 
Greene,  Robert,  80,  82, 108. 
Grote,  George,  340. 

H. 

Hall,  Edward,  57;  Joseph, 

71. 

Hallam,  Henry,  341,  342. 
Hamilton.  Sir  Wm.,  343. 
Harvey,  Gabriel,  64,  67. 
liathaway,  Ann,  wife  of 

Shakspeare, 
Hawes,  Stephen,  52. 
Ilazlitt,  William,  347. 
Hemans,  Mrs..  317. 
Henryson,  Robert,  53. 
Herbert,  George,  135. 
Hereford,  translator  of  the 

Old  Testament,  47. 
HerricK,  Robert,  136. 
Heywood,  John,  75. 
Hejrwood,  Thomas,  112. 
Hobbes,  Thomas,  127,  169, 

17'). 
Holinshed,  Raphael,  60, 90, 

114, 

Home,  Henry.  Sf-e  Kames. 
Hood,  Thomas,  314,  315. 
Hooker,  Richard,  116,  117. 
Howard.  Henry.  53. 
Hume,  David,  248--250. 
Hunt,  James  Henry  Leigh, 

313,  314. 

Hyde,  Edward.  See  Clar- 
endon. 

I. 

Inductive  Method.  See  Ba- 
con. 

Interludes,  the,  75. 

Ireland,  William  Henry, 
277. 

J. 

James  I.  of  Scotland.  50; 

VI.  of  Scotland,  102. 
Jeffrey.  Francis,  345. 
John  of  Gaunt,  29,32. 
Johnson.  8  a  inn  el,  254-261. 
Jon-on,  Ben,  90,  102-107. 
Junius,  Letters  of,  263. 

K. 

Kames,  Lord,  264. 
Keats.  John,  312. 
Kyd,  Thomas,  80,  82. 


Lake  School,  The,  318. 
Lamb,  Charles,  347. 
Landor.  Walter  Savage,  314 
Langlandc,  43. 
Lungue-d'Oc,  the.  9, 10. 
Langue-d'Oil,  the,  9, 10. 
Latin  by  English  authors, 

24. 

Layamon,  22. 
Lee,  Nathaniel,  184. 
Lewis,  Matthew  Gregory, 

329. 

Locke,  John,  186-190. 
Lockhart,    John    Gibson, 

345.  346. 

Lydgate.  John,  49,  50. 
Lyly,  John.  80,  81. 
Lyttelton,  Lord,  264. 

M. 

Macaulay,  Thomas  Babing- 

ton.  340,  341. 
Macphersou,  James,  276. 
Mandeville,  Sir  John,  47. 
Marlowe,  Christopher,  80, 

82,  103. 

Marston,  John,  108. 112. 
Man-vat.  Captain.  333. 
Massing*!-.  Philip.  199, 110. 
Mermaid  Club.  The,  115. 
Metrical     Paraphrase     of 

Scriptures.  16. 
Middle  English,  13,  22. 
Middleton,  Thomas.  112. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  344. 
Milman,  Henry  Hart,  342, 

343. 
Milton,  John,  17,  130,  1&3, 

142-158. 

Minot,  Laurence, 
Miracle  Plays,  73-75. 
Mirror  for  Magistrates,  61. 
Mitford.  Miss.' 332. 
Modern  English,  13. 
Montagu,  Lady  Mary.  236. 
Moore,  Thomas,  307-309. 
Moralities,  the,  74-76. 
More,  Sir  Thomas.  56,  57, 

237:  Hannah.  279,  280. 
Muller,  Max,  22. 
Mysteries  or  Miracles,  73. 

N. 

Nash,  Thomas,  108. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  194. 

Nineteenth  Century,  Com- 
ments on,  338  seq. 

Norman  Conquest,  effects 
of,  8,  9. 

Norman  fusion  with  An- 
glo-Saxon. 11,  12. 

North.  Christopher.  See 
Wilson. 

Norton.  Thomas,  76. 

Novel.  The.  237. 

Novelists,  The  first  great, 
237. 


O. 

Occleve,  Thomas,  28,  49. 
Old  English,  13;  poetry,  14 

-18 ;  prose,  18-20. 
Orm  or  Ormiu,  23. 
Ormulum,  the,  23. 
Ossian,  276. 
Otway,  Thomas,  184. 
Owl  and  Nighlugale,  tha, 

24. 

P. 

Paley,  William,  264. 
Paston  Letters,  51. 
Peele,  George,  80,  81. 
Pepys,  Samuel,  167. 
Percy,  Bishop.  288,  289. 
Piers  Ploughman,  43,  44. 
Poets  Laureate,  351. 
Pope,  Alexander,  33,  132, 

198-210. 
Pope's  Quarrel  with  Adcii- 

son,  220. 
Printing,  its  importation 

into  England,  51. 
Prior,  Matthew,  211. 

Q. 

Quarles,  Francis,  135. 
Quarterly  Review,  345. 

R. 

Radcliffe,  Ann,  329. 
Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  67, 83, 

115. 

Ralph  Royster  Doyster,  77. 
Ramsay,  Allan,  213. 
Reformation,  the,  114. 
Reid,  Dr.  Thomas,  343. 
Reviews,  Edinburgh   aiid 

Quarterly,  345. 
Richardson,  Samuel,  239- 

242. 

Robertson,  Wm.,  250-252. 
Romance  languages,  9,  10. 
Roman  invasion,  6. 
Rowe,  Nicholas,  141,  184. 

S. 

Sackville,  Thomas,  61,  76. 
Saxon    element    in    lan- 
guage. 13. 

Saxon  Chronicles,  18. 
Scott.  Sir  Walter,  288-298. 
Scottish  poetry  in  fifteenth 

and  sixteenth  centuries, 

50.  53. 
Semi-Saxon,   duration  of, 

13. 

Shadwell,  Thomas,  174 
Shaftesbury,  Lord,  174. 
Shakespeare,  Wm.,  80,  85- 

101. 
Shelley,  Mrs.,   329;  Percy 

Bys*he,  310-312. 
Shenstone,  William,  268. 
Sheridan,  Richard   Briu-- 

ley,  280. 
Shirley,  James,  112. 


402 


INDEX    TO    ENGLISH    LITER  A  TUBE. 


Sidney,  Philip,  61,  64,  237. 
Skelton,  John,  52,  53,  71. 
Smith,  Adam.  263. 
Smith,  Sydney,  345. 
Smollett,  Tobias  George, 

243-245. 

South.  Robert.  193. 
Sontliey,  Robert,  325-327. 
Spenser,  Edmund,  63-70. 
Spenserian  stanza,  69. 
Steele,   Sir    Richard,  199, 

216-218. 

Sterne,  Laurence,  246,  247. 
Still  John.  77. 
St.  John,  Henry.    See  Bo- 

lingbroke. 
Stow,  John,  114. 
Sncklinp,  Sir  John,  136. 
Surrey,  Earl  of,  53,  54,  71. 
Swift,  Jonathan,  199.  224 

-•>34. 

T. 
Taylor,  Jeremy,  JS7.   139, 

140. 


Temple,  Sir  William, 

Teutonic  race,  parentage 
of  English  nation  traced 
to,  7. 

Thackeray's  estimate  of 
Addison,  221,  223. 

Thackeray,  William  Make- 
peace. 333-335. 

Theatres,  the  early,  78, 
79. 

Thirlwall,  Bishop,  340. 

Thomson,  James,  199,  265, 
266. 

Tillotson,Archbishop,  193. 

Troubadours.  9,  10. 

Tronveres.  9,  10. 

Tycdale,  William,  58,  59. 


U. 

Udall,  Nicholas,  77. 
Unities,    The     Dramatic, 
106,  n. 


V. 

Vanbrugh,  Sir  John,  182. 

W. 

Waller.  Edmund,  136. 
Walpole,  Horace.  328,  329. 
Walton,  Izaak,  165,  166. 
Warton,  Joseph,  268. 
Warton,  Thomas,  2C8. 
Webster,  John,  in.  112. 
Whately,  Archbishop,  344. 
Wilson.    Professor   John. 

346. 

Wither.  George,  134. 
Wordsworth,  Wm.,  42,  318- 

828. 
Wyatt,  Sir  Thomas,  53,  54. 

71. 

Wycherley,  William,  180. 
Wycliffe,  'John,  29,  47. 


Young,  Edward,  213. 


INDEX 

TO  THE  AMERICAN  LITERATURE. 


A. 

Curtis,  George  W.,  378. 

Hart,  J.  S.,  375. 

Cushiug,  378. 

Hawthorne,    N.,  378,   331 

Adams,  358. 

382. 

Adams,  John  Q..  861,  377. 
Allston,  W.,  377,  383,  385. 
Alsop,  384. 
Ames,  Fisher,  361. 

D. 

Dana,  Richard  H.,  374,  382, 
386. 

Heaci'lev,  378. 
Henry,  Patrick,  358. 
Hewitt,  Mrs.,  395. 
Hildreth,  366. 

Anthon,  Prof.,  377. 

Dana,  Richard  H.,  Jr.,  378. 

Hillhou<H!  386 

Audubon,  377,  378. 

Davidsons,  3%. 

Hoffman,  378,  388,  390. 

Delano,  o78. 

Holland,  J.  G.,  383. 

B. 

Dennie.  370. 

Holmes,  O.  W.,  392. 

Bancroft,  G.,  364,  376. 

De  Tocquoville,  356. 

Honeywood,  384. 

Bigelow,  378. 
Bird,  Dr.  R.,  383. 

Dewey,  378. 
Downing,  A.  J.,  377. 

Hopkins,  355. 
Hopkiuson,  Judge,  395. 

Boker  G.  H.,  393. 

Drake,  889,  390. 

Hudson,  H.  X.,  374. 

Bowditch,  Dr.,  377. 
Bradford,  Gov.,  384 

Duyckinck,  375. 
D  wight,  J.  S.,  377,  384. 

Humphreys,  3*4 
Hutchiiison,  Anne,  354. 

Bradstreet.  Mrs.,  384. 

Braiuard,  393. 

E. 

I. 

Breckenridge,  878. 
Brooks,  0.  T.,376. 
Brooks,  Mrs.,  395. 
Brown.  C.  Brockden,  378. 
Brownson,  355. 
Bryant,  W.  C.,  378,  396-399. 
Buell.  Judge.  377. 

Edwards,  353,  354. 
Eliot,  36o. 
Emburv,  Mrs.,  .'X>5. 
Emerson,  375,  370.  :;95. 
Everett.  A.  H.,  374,  817. 
Everett,  Edward,  361-363. 

Irving.  W.,    368,   371-374, 
376,  378,  383. 

J. 

Jav,  &58. 
Jewett.  378. 

Burr,  359. 

Judd,  383. 

Bush,  355. 

F. 

Butler,  W.  A..  393. 

Fay.  T.  S.,  377,  382. 

K. 

Byles,  Dr.,  384 

Fisk,  378. 

Kendall,  378. 

Flint,  378. 

Kennedv.  J.  P.,  388. 

C. 

Flint,  Timothy,  382. 

Kent.  3th,  377. 

Calhoun.  361. 

Force,  363. 

Key,  F.  S.,  395. 

Calvert,  G.  H..  378. 

Fox,  George,  355. 

Kimball.  :!77. 

Carey,  H.  C.,  377. 
Carter,  377. 

Franklin,  370. 
Fremont,  378. 

Kidder.  378. 
King,  378. 

Catliu,  377,  378. 
Channing,  William  EJlery, 
355.  356. 

Freneau,  P.,  384. 
Frisbie,  Prof.,  393. 
Fuller,  Miss,  375. 

Kip.  378. 
Kirklaud.  Mrs.,  377. 

Cheever,  N.  E  ,  378. 

L. 

Choate,  361. 
Clark,  Miss  Sara,  395. 
Clarke,  W.  G.,  377,  395. 
Clay,  301. 
Cleveland,  878. 
Clirt'con  W^    335 

O. 

Gallatin,  A.,  377. 
Gillespic.  378. 
Godfrey,  T.,  384. 
Gould.'Miss,  395. 

Lanman.  378. 
Lewis  and  Clark,  377. 
Long.  37^. 
Longfellow,  376.  378,  383, 
301,392. 

Coggeshall,'  378.' 
Column.  H.,377. 
Colton,  377,  378. 

Greeley.  Horace,  377. 
Greene,  A.  G.,  393. 

Gregg,  378. 

Loesing.  B.  J..  306. 
Lowell,  J.  R.,  375,  377,  392. 
Lyman,  378. 

Cooke,  3:«. 
Cooper, 

H. 

Lynch,  378. 
Lynch,  Mi*s,  395. 

Cooper,  Dr..  377. 

Halleck,  Fitz-Green«,  388, 

Cooper.  J.  F..  369,  378-881. 

389. 

. 

Cox,  Cleveland,  395. 

Hamilton,  Alexander,  358, 

Mackenzie.  378. 

Croswcll,  395. 

859. 

Marsh,  G.  P.,  368. 

404      I2STDEX    TO    THE    AMERICAN"    LITERATURE. 


Mather,  Increase  and  Cot- 

tou,  334, 

Matthews,  Cornelius,  377. 
Mayo,  383. 
M'Connell,  382. 
Melville.  378,  383. 
Middleton.  377. 
Mitchell,  Donald  G.,  377. 
Morris,  G.  P.,  395. 
Morris,  Gouverneur,  353. 
Motley,  3fi8. 
Mumlord,  W.,  385. 
"Murray,  3oo. 

N. 

Neal,  John,  383,  395. 
Neal,  J.  C.,  377. 
Norinan,  378. 
Norton,  A.,  374,  393. 
bourse,  J.  D.,  377. 

O. 

Os^ood,  Mrs.,  395. 
Otis,  358. 

P. 

Faine,  R.  T.,  385. 
I'.-ilfrey,  J.  G.,  368,  37T 
I  aimer,  393. 
1'avkman,  369,  378. 
1'arsoiis.  Dr.,  393. 
Tarton.  368. 
r:mMins,  382,  385. 
Fercival,  J.  G.,  388. 
Pickering,  377. 
Pierpont,  J.,  386. 
Pihs,  A.,385. 


Pinckney,  358,  393. 

Thoreau,  376. 

Poe,  E.  A.,  383,  393. 

Thorpe,  377,  378. 

Prescott,  W.  H.,  366,  367. 

Ticknor,  George,  375. 
Townsend,  378. 

R. 

Trumbull,  384. 

Ragnet,  377. 
Ralph,  384. 

Tucker,  377. 
Tudor,  377. 

Ramsay.  David,  364. 

Raymond,  377. 

V. 

Reed,  374. 
Riplev.  G.,  376. 

Verplanck,  361. 

Robinson,  378. 

Ruscheuberger,  378. 

W". 

Rush.  Dr.,  377. 

Walker,  James,  375. 

Rutledge,  358. 

Wallace,  378. 

Walsh,  R.,  377. 

S. 

Ware,  Henry.  393. 

Sanderson,  378. 
Sands,  R.  C.,  377. 
Sargent,  Epes,  395. 
Schoolcraft,  377,  378. 
Shaler,  378. 
Siirourney,  Lydia  H..  395. 
Silliman.  378. 

Ware,  William,  363. 
Warren,  358,  378. 
Wayland,  375,  :,7V. 
Webber.  378. 
Webster,  Daniel.  358.  360. 
Webster.  Noah,  377. 
Welby,  Mrs.,  395. 
Wheaton  368. 

Simmet,  W.  Gilmoro,  382. 
Smith,  Mrs.  E.  Oakes,  395. 
Sparks.  363. 
Spencer,  378. 

Whipple.'E.  P.,  375. 
Whitefield,  355. 
Whitman.  Mrs..  395. 
Wdittier.  John  G..  395. 

Sprazne.  387. 
Squie'r,  377,  378. 
Stephens.  378. 
Story,  861. 
Street,  Alfred  B.,  3B4. 

Wilde,  R.  H.,  374,  393. 
Wilkes.  378. 
Williams,  Roger.  354,  384. 
Willis.  N.  P.,  877,  318,  383, 

3!K),  391. 

Wilson,  377,  37S. 

X. 

Win,  William,  361,  377. 

Taylor,  B..  378,  395. 

Wise,  378. 

Thomas,  382. 

Woodworth,  393. 

JUS  2'    THE   SOOA'    2'IfAl'   IS 


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For  the  youngest  scholars,  and  illustrated  with  numerous 
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<* 


Sheldon  &   Company's    Text-Books. 

Avery's  Natural  Fhiloso2>Jty.  460  pages.  By  ELROY 
M.  AVERT,  A.  M. 

The  book  is  an  tamest  and  eminently  successful  attempt  to  present  the  facts 
of  the  Science  in  a  logical  and  comprehensible  manner.  The  chapter  especially 
devoted  to  Energy  has  been  pronounced,  by  competent  and  discriminating 
judges,  the  most  satisfactory  that  has  yet  been  written. 

The  chapter  on  Electricity  has  met  with  the  wannest  expressions  of  ap- 
proval from  prominent  teachers,  school  superintendents,  and  professors.  The 
other  chapters  arc  equally  good. 

The  type  is  large  and  clear,  the  engravings  are  about  four  hundred  in  num- 
ber, and  all  artistically  executed.  The  printers  and  the  engravers  have  tried  to 
make  this  book  as  clear  cut  as  the  statements  and  definitions  of  the  author. 

A  Manual  of  English  Literature.  By  HENRY  MORLEY, 
Professor  of  English  Literature  in  University  College,  London. 
Thoroughly  revised,  with  an  entire  rearrangement  of  matter, 
and  with  numerous  retrenchments  and  additions,  by  MOSES 
COIT  TYLER,  Professor  of  English  Literature  in  the  University 
of  Michigan. 

For  advanced  instruction  in  English  Literature,  no  book  has  hitherto 
existed  which  is  now  satisfactory  either  to  teachers  or  students.  While  each 
book  has  its  own  merits,  it  has  also  defects  so  serious  as  to  stand  in  the  way 
of  its  complete  success. 

In  the  "  MANUAL  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATUBE  "  now  published,— the  joint  pro- 
duction of  two  distinguished  authors  and  practical  teachers,  one  representing 
a  leading  university  in  England,  and  the  other  representing  a  leading  univer- 
sity in  America,— we  believe  that  the  book  so  long  needed  is  at  last  to  be  fiad  ; 
a  book  that  must  at  once,  by  its  own  merits,  take  the  precedence  of  all  others 
in  this  department,  in  the  principal  seminaries,  colleges,  and  universities  of 
the  country. 

Professor  Henry  Morley,  of  the  University  of  London,  is  one  of  the  most 
distinguished  living  authorities  in  all  matters  pertaining  to  English  literary 
history  and  criticism.  He  is  fifty-seven  years  of  age ;  has  written  many  suc- 
cessful books  in  general  literature. 

Professor  Moses  Coit  Tyler,  though  a  much  younger  man  than  Professor 
Morley,  has  been  also  for  many  years  a  practical  teacher  of  English  Literature 
to  advanced  students  in  a  great  university ;  has  had  a  varied  and  successful 
career  in  general  authorship;  and  especially  by  his  elaborate  "History  of 
American  Literature,"  has  come  to  sustain  a  relation  to  literary  history  in  this 
country  similar  to  that  held  by  Professor  Morley  in  England.  The  combined 
labors  of  two  such  men  ought  to  give  us  the  long-needed  Test-Book  in  Eng- 
lish Literature. 


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A     000571     iT    4 
Sheldon  &  Company's  2'ext-Sooks.  \ 

COLTON'S  NEW  GEOGRAPHIES, 

Z7ie  whole  subject  *»  Two  liooks. 

These  books  are  the  most  simple,  the  most  practical,  ami  lest 
adapted  to  the  wants  of  the  schoolroom  of  any  yet  published. 

I.  Cotton's  yew  Introductory  Geography. 

With  entirely  new  Maps  made  especially  for  this  book,  on 
the  most  improved  plan ;  and  elegantly  Illustrated. 

II.  Cotton's  Common  School  Geography. 

With    Thirty  -  six  new  Maps,  made  especially  for  this  book, 
and  drawn  on  a  uniform  system  of  scales. 

Elegantly  Illustrated. 

This  book  is  the  best  adapted  to  teaching  the  subject  of  Geog- 
raphy of  any  yet  published.  It  is  simple  and  comprehensive, 
and  embraces  just  what  the  child  should  be  taught,  and  nothing 
more.  It  also  embraces  the  general  principles  of  Physical  Geog- 
raphy so  far  as'  they  can  be  taught  to  advantage  in  Common 
Schools. 

For  those  desiring  to  pursue  the  study  of  Physical  Geography, 
re  have  prepared 


Cotton's  Physical  Geography. 

One  Vol.    2to. 

A  very  valuable  book  and  fully  illustrated.  The  Maps  are 
compiled  with  the  greatest  care  by  GEO.  W.  COLTON,  and  repre- 
sent the  most  remarkable  and  interesting  features  of  Physical 
Geography  clearly  to  the  eye. 

The  plan  of  Cotton's  Geography  Is  the  best  I  have  ever  seen.  It  meets  the 
exact  wants  of  our  Grammar  Schools.  The  Review  is  unsurpassed  in  its 
tendency  to  make  thorough  and  reliable  scholars.  I  have  learned  more  Geog- 
raphy that  is  practical  and  available  during  the  short  time  we  have  used  this 
work,  than  in  all  my  life  before,  including  ten  years  teaching  by  Mitchell's 
plan.  —  A.  B.  HEYATOOD,  Prin.  Franklin  Gram.  School,  Lowell, 


So  well  satisfied  have  I  been  with  these  Geographies  that  I  adopted  them, 
«nd  have  procured  their  introduction  into  most  of  the  schools  in  this  county. 
JAJIES  W.  THOMPSON,  A.M.,  Prin.  of  Centremlte  Academy,  Maryland. 

Any  of  the  above  sent  by  mall,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of  price. 


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